


Son of Blood

by pristineungift



Series: The Blood Trilogy [2]
Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: AU, Action/Adventure, Drama, F/F, F/M, Family, Fantasy, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-26
Updated: 2011-09-26
Packaged: 2017-10-24 02:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 55,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pristineungift/pseuds/pristineungift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part II of The Blood Trilogy. Darken Rahl has an empire to reclaim. Kahlan Amnell has a rule of law to restore. "Should the Mother Confessor betray the Son of Blood, the world will fall, all magic erased." Darken/Cara, Richard/Kahlan, Jennsen/Mord'Sith, Zedd/OC LotSeekerfic Award Winner!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Son of Blood

**Author's Note:**

> This is the finally edited text. For some reason the images wouldn't import. You can see all the fanart images on my LJ. Thanks for reading!

 

_Dedicated to_

_Ace, Bex, and Melty, my first and best critics._

_Dorothydeath, for her unbridled enthusiasm and lovely artwork._

_Serendipity513, for wanting an evil character named after her that sparked a story I didn’t know I had to tell._

_And to everyone at People’s Palace for loving this world as much as I do._

**  
**

<http://pristineungift.livejournal.com/>

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jBn2Xyxyu3c>

 

 

 **D** **ISCLAIMER**

All characters, places, and situations recognizable from _Legend of the Seeker_ , and/or other media belong to the appropriate parties. No profit is being made. All original content, including but not limited to plot lines and characters, belong to this user. Please request permission before redistributing.

 

 **All verse and/or poetry that is not recognizable from _Legend of the Seeker_ is the original work and property of this author**. Please do not redistribute it without giving credit to and alerting the author, pristineungift / PristinelyUngifted, to its use.

**Important author's note:** This is the sequel to _Blood from a Stone_ , and should be read after it.

 

 **Many thanks to:** My betas, brontefanatic, and aceofhadeon who continue to do an exemplary job, Agiels ever at the ready. Also thanks to melt_in2_me and vorquellyn, whose discussion posts and fan works have influenced my view of Darken Rahl and D'Hara more than they know.

**Warnings:** Fantasy violence, torture, mentions of femslash, sensuality.

 **A** **UTHOR’S** **F** **ORWARD**

This work represents the time period in which I really began to find my own style as a writer, and stopped making quite so many mistakes! But more than that, it represents an adventure in which I invented my own villains, and built upon the canon of the show. The success of this story gave me the confidence to start writing my own original works again, and for that I’ll always be grateful.

So, to each of you who thrilled at the Fenrisulfr, shuddered at the Brotherhood of the Gods, and sent me reviews and emails about what a good thing I was doing, know that any success I may enjoy now as a fanfic writer, or in the future as a (hopefully published) writer, it’s thanks in part to all of you.

Who says fanfiction can't change your life? It's changed mine in more ways than I can count.

In the end though, it's not just the fic that changed my life, but all of you who have read, enjoyed, debated, reviewed, made art, etc. I can't name you all here, and I can't thank you enough, but you all mean a lot to me and have given me a confidence in my writing I otherwise would not have attained.

At one year and counting, _Son of Blood_  has over 25,000 hits on fanfiction.net, and 124 reviews. It placed 5 times in the LotSeekerFic Awards, included among those Best Portrayal of Darken Rahl, Best Portrayal of Cara, and Best Action/Adventure. I am working on the final part of the trilogy, and hope to start posting it soon after the release of this final edition.

And thank you.

Pris

* * *

**Chapter 1: Harried**

* * *

Darken stirred from his hard bed of leaves, something bringing him to wakefulness. He opened his eyes to find Cara's glowing a dull green in the firelight, one hand on her Agiels, the other lightly on his arm. The fire cast a red-orange sheen on the amulet of bones she wore at her throat, throwing it in sharp relief.

He did not speak. She did not warn him not to.

It was not necessary.

Cara cast her senses outward, listening, watching, almost tasting the forest around them.

Darken sat up, hand going to his own Agiel. His sword was too awkward to draw from a sitting position.

They sat, straining to locate the source of their unease for an interminable period.

And then suddenly the tension lessened.

The wiry awareness faded from Darken first. Cara could not relax so easily.

It was a Mord'Sith's duty to protect Lord Rahl.

And Cara's desire to protect Darken.

"You see how bad things have gotten since Richard ended my reign."

Exhaling heavily through her nose, Cara nodded.

"Sleep," Darken commanded. "I will take next watch."

There were dark circles under his Mistress Cara's eyes. Darken regretted allowing the other Mord'Sith to go with his brother. Cara would not be so on edge if there were another available to protect him.

He fingered the Agiel at his belt.

Not that he needed much protection.

**-l-**

Richard stood guard over his sleeping companions, a fortnight of harried travel leaving him ill-kempt and exhausted.

He had thought that the upheaval throughout the territories was due to the tear in the veil. What land wouldn't be troubled when the dead walked among the living, killing for the Keeper? Who wouldn't do whatever they could to stay alive when faced with screelings and worse?

But things didn't get better with the triumph of the light over the dark.

They got worse.

Bandits that were too afraid to roam before now robbed freely. D'Haran soldiers went rogue. The remains of the resistance fighters were just as bad, men and women trained to battle when there was no longer a battle to fight. Civil war broke out in kingdoms where D'Hara had taken over and eliminated the ruling nobility.

The death of Darken Rahl had created a vacuum in the fragile web of politics.

The Midlands were tearing themselves apart.

The sun crested the horizon, making Richard squint bloodshot eyes. The sooner they got to Aydindril, the better.

As usual, the first to awaken was Haden, the Mord'Sith who had insisted on traveling with them. She claimed that she owed a life debt to Zedd.

And Mord'Sith always repaid their debts.

Her long chestnut braid thumped against her back as she immediately began breaking camp. She was quiet, not so outspoken as Cara, but she was always anticipating what needed to be done, and doing it efficiently and quickly.

Richard wished she would smile more.

He supposed it wasn't fair to keep comparing her to Cara.

Thinking of Cara made him wonder where she and his brother were, if they were safe. Much could happen to two lone travelers with the violence that swept the land.

Thinking of what would happen if Darken ran afoul of any former members of the resistance made Richard cold.

Thinking of what Darken and Cara would do to any that dared cross them made him colder.

Richard groaned and stood, praying silently to the Creator to guide his brother in his new life.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Ache**

* * *

"My lord," Cara's voice interrupted Darken's thoughts. He turned to her, one eyebrow raised in question.

"I suggest that we take another route. The bandits in this area used to belong to the resistance." Her jaw tightened. "They will not hesitate to kill either of us, and I cannot protect you against all of them myself."

Unbidden, a memory of how Darken had looked, broken and bleeding on the stone dais of the Pillars of Creation swam to the surface of Cara's mind. He had lain there, next to the body of their son.

A lump formed in Cara's throat and she felt sick. She turned away, ashamed of her weakness.

But she could hide nothing from Darken.

There was the quiet sound of his leather tunic creaking and then gentle, yet firm fingers ran along the edge of her jaw, gripping her chin.

Darken kissed her, sweetly, softly, a tenderness present that very few knew him to be capable of.

"We will take another route," he whispered in her ear. "But first, perhaps something to relieve your tension, my dear Cara…"

She could feel his grin against her hair.

She happily allowed his desire, feeling oddly fragile.

This small piece of happiness, this contented warmth as skin slid against skin… It made Cara afraid.

Because it surely could not last.

Lying naked in Darken's arms, covered only in his cloak, she ran her fingers over the amulet she always wore.

The bones of her son.

A tear threatened to fall, but she blinked it away.

This attack of melancholy was ridiculous. The veil was sealed. Richard, Kahlan, and Zedd were heading for Aydindril and would soon be safely ensconced there. She had her lord back again, the man who had always shown her favor and kindness, in his own way.

And her son, Nicholas, was surely with the Creator.

She had to believe that.

He had been so like his father. So clever.

How much of that was Nicholas, and how much the Keeper?

Was it even Nicholas at all?

"Cara," Darken's voice startled her.

Cara smirked devilishly, seduction in her every motion.

Darken was not fooled, but he allowed her the deception. He could order her to tell him, but he had learned long ago that Cara disliked being forced to share her troubles. He preferred to respect her secrecy. After all, she respected his.

He would interfere only if it continued to adversely affect her.

"My lord," she purred.

He closed his eyes, turning his face into her neck. He was surprised to feel a stab of annoyance at the title she bestowed on him.

No one had called him anything but lord since his ascension to the throne of D'Hara.

Until Hali.

He had put so much work into winning Cara back, to hearing "Lord Rahl" fall from her lips one more time.

Now he found that he did not want to be Cara's lord.

He ignored the small uneasiness.

They were even now on their way to reclaim D'Hara.

He was a lord.

He was her lord.

Somewhere in the vicinity of his heart, there was an ache.

 

* * *

**Chapter 3: Harmless**

* * *

They cut through the forest to go around the jumble of villages heavily occupied by former resistance fighters.

Cara grew visibly more at ease the further they got from the villages. Darken found himself concerned for her. Whatever was troubling her, it was not easily dealt with.

And yet, he was reluctant to broach the subject and confused as to why he even wanted to. He had never cared to entangle himself in such things before. In the old days he would have simply sent Dahlia to Cara, or more recently, Hali, and waited for the women to address whatever the problem was.

But he did not have Dahlia or Hali now.

They were both dead.

"There is a village up ahead," Cara said, eyes dull. "I will scout and then let you know if it is safe to approach."

"Cara, it is equally dangerous for you. Without the sheltering presence of my brother, villagers will not welcome a Mord'Sith." He twisted his lips wryly, "Reformed or not."

She stopped, turning to face him, eyes hard.

"It is a Mord'Sith's duty to protect Lord Rahl."

The smallest wave of relief washed through him. That was his Mistress Cara, impertinent and defiant.

Much better than the troubled woman constantly close to tears that had been occupying her body. It would not appear so to others, but Darken had spent his life surrounded by Mord'Sith, and devoted much time to this one in particular.

Though her face stayed blank and her hands steady, he knew.

She sauntered to him, looking up into his face. He paid no attention to her words, simply watching her lips move. They were a warm coral pink, sharply contrasted against the white of her teeth.

Moving like a snake, he threaded his fingers in her shorn hair, not altogether gently. He pulled her into a kiss, a hard clash of dominance. Cara fought back, his equal in every way.

His equal.

At the rate they were becoming… distracted, they would not reach D'Hara for at least a year.

**-l-**

Kahlan marched back into camp, her satchel empty and her white dress stained with red.

"Kahlan!" Richard cried, jumping to his feet. "You're bleeding!"

She frowned, irritation and embarrassment making her temper short, "I'm not bleeding, I'm covered in tomato juice."

"Tomato juice?" questioned Zedd from his place by the fire where he was preparing a meal.

"I thought you were going to get supplies and horses," Haden said, one of her rare sentences. She glanced at Zedd out of the corner of her eye and it was obvious she was concerned only for him.

"I _was_ going to get supplies and horses. But as soon as I entered the town, all of the villagers started closing their stalls. And then," Kahlan dropped her empty satchel by the fire, plucking at the stained fabric of her dress, "some children threw rotten fruit at me."

Haden snorted, quickly covering her mouth with a red gloved hand. Kahlan just sighed.

"This will never come out."

Richard sat by her, placing a calming hand on hers, "Don't worry about it, Kahlan. I'm sure it was just children being children. Didn't you ever do anything bad?"

"Says the apple thief of Hartland!" exclaimed Zedd as he leaned forward to wave a hand over the stains on Kahlan's gown.

They vanished.

Kahlan looked up at Zedd in delighted surprise. Zedd grinned, saying, "My mother had that very same look on her face when I first showed her that trick."

"Wizard," Haden interrupted, "I'm hungry."

Zedd rolled his eyes, though he was careful not to let the Mord'Sith see.

Kahlan laughed, relaxing against Richard. They were all tired from their journey. Their ragged appearance was a testament to that. Fighting every step of the way from the Pillars of Creation had made the trip longer and ultimately more exhausting.

She had surely overreacted. Richard was right. The children were just playing a harmless prank.

 

* * *

**Chapter 4: Dawn**

* * *

Darken dreamt. It was a pleasant dream, filled with light and laughter. All of his dreams had been thus since his return to life at the Pillars of Creation.

He had a lifetime of nightmares to his name already. Pleasant dreams were long overdue.

And yet, something about the dreams bothered him.

There was a haze about them, an unreality, a muffling of his senses. Were these normal dreams? It had been so long since he had dreamt of anything but the Keeper.

Someone walked with him in a garden, but he couldn't make out who. She tried to speak to him, but he could not hear. White light surrounded him, but it was not blinding.

He didn't like it.

When he awoke Cara was already standing, pulling on one of her gloves. She looked over her shoulder at him.

"I will get supplies, and horses."

"I will accompany you," Darken answered as he stood, an undignified yawn splitting his face as he shook out his cloak.

"Lord Rahl," Cara began. Darken looked at her sharply. "Don't be a fool. It will be safer if I go alone."

Eyes sparking at the insult, Darken swept his cloak around his shoulders, mentally cursing the summer heat. "You had no problem with me accompanying you into a village a few weeks ago, Cara. This is hardly different."

"That was before," Cara argued, voice harsh.

Before the veil was sealed. Before Hali's death. Before Cara had had to mourn her lover and her son in the same moment.

Before she became the only thing standing between Lord Rahl and a reunion with the Keeper.

Before he had asked her to stay with him.

Darken pulled up the hood of his cloak, hiding his face. "Yes, Cara. It was before."

Before Darken had seen the son he deprived himself of. Before he had given his life for the woman he –

Before he had walked in the Creator's garden.

He put on his belt, making sure that his Agiel, knife, and sword all hung freely.

They would be easily drawn should Cara's fears prove true.

"Come, Cara."

He was both frustrated and flattered by her obsession with his safety. But he would not allow her to go alone.

The reason was obvious.

"Lord Rahl," she protested through gritted teeth. Why did he have to be so stubborn? She ran a fingertip over the amulet she wore, an action that was swiftly becoming a habit.

" _Come_ , Cara," he said with more force, turning his back on her to begin walking. Anger simmered beneath his skin.

Her protestations were not the cause, though they contributed. He would not allow her to coddle him as the blind healer had so enjoyed doing.

He disliked the way she said 'Lord Rahl.' Like she was any Mord'Sith, any woman to him. As if she was beneath him, as all others.

Like she did not appreciate that he had given his life, however briefly, to save hers.

Lord Rahl was a lonely man. An empty man.

Darken was not.

Scowling at his own ridiculous thoughts, Darken trudged onwards, head bowed to shadow his face.

Soon they would reach D'Hara, he would take the lay of the land, conquer it again, and take up residence in the People's Palace.

It was inconceivable that he would fail.

It was inconceivable that the thought would not give him pleasure.

"Cara," he commanded, "you will walk at my side."

She complied, a light in her face that he had missed from… before.

Once alone, they had reverted to old habits, the old way they interacted with each other when Mistress Cara was Lord Rahl's most trusted Mord'Sith. When she used to walk at his right hand, carefully two paces behind.

That was not the 'before' that Darken missed.

He missed the Cara that walked beside him, or before him. The Cara that dared to defy him, to hit him, the Cara that was in no way subservient.

With dawning awareness, Darken realized that he missed the Cara who did not treat him as Lord Rahl.

How very interesting.

Reaching out, Darken pulled Cara's hand into his, fingers interwoven just as they used to lead Hali.

Both kept their eyes on the path ahead.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Pay**

* * *

The village was small but bustling. Darken carefully kept his head tipped downwards to be sure that his cloak would keep him disguised.

Perhaps it would be best if he began using bandages again, as Hali had once had him do.

A warm breeze rushed through the small village square, caressing Darken's face.

A wave of quiet spread throughout the village as the people noticed Cara, followed by a rumble of angry mutters. They pointed at Cara and Darken's clasped hands, not even bothering to be discreet.

_Pet. Trained. Demon._

_Whore._

Cara ignored the mutterings, walking with Darken to a nearby stall. She squeezed his hand. He squeezed back, understanding that with the attention of so many centered on them it was best to play the part of subservient male, lest he be recognized.

"I want journey food. And horses," Cara said bluntly to a likely looking merchant.

He stared at her blankly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

Cara raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. "Well."

A shadow fell across her face. Darken moved quickly, placing himself between her and the large man who had approached from the side.

"There a problem here?" the behemoth asked.

"The problem," Cara said before the merchant could gather his courage to speak, "is this man's refusal to conduct business."

Darken's free hand crept toward his belt, itching to draw a weapon.

"You gonna pay?"

A level sphinx gaze from the Mord'Sith.

"If he will take our money. If he won't…"

She let the sentence hang.

"I think you'd better sell to the nice lady, William."

"But she's –"

The big man turned to gaze down at the merchant. "The sooner she gets what she wants, the sooner she'll go."

The purchases were accomplished quickly and silently. Cara inspected everything given to them, including the horses, her glare daring the merchant and his protector to challenge her.

Finally she declared everything satisfactory and she and Darken mounted, walking the pack-laden horses from the village.

As soon as they were out of sight, the big man spat on the ground, the nervous merchant, William, joining him.

It was necessary to rid their mouths of the evil inherent in talking to such creatures.

"Better tell the Brother that they've been through here so he can perform a cleansing."

William nodded. "Thanks for your help handling them. You know how I feel about their kind."

"How we all feel."

Away from the village, Darken brought his horse level with Cara's, his hood pushed back. "Reclaiming D'Hara may prove more difficult than we thought if the people are so hostile at the mere sight of Mord'Sith."

"That wasn't a loyalist village. Things may be better within our homeland."

Darken smiled a tiny smile. "Our?"

Cara rolled her eyes at him, kicking her horse into a run.

She needed a way to release the tension and fear that had dragged at her like stones tied to her feet.

She knew she could have fought her way out of that village.

With Darken's help, she could have decimated that village.

But knowing and believing were different. She could not get past the memory of a spreading pool of blood two inches thick, a hopelessness she had never before felt as the breath of life failed her.

No matter how fast she pushed her mount, she could not outrun her fears. They were right behind her.

As was Darken.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Start**

* * *

"It's the Seeker!"

"Everyone look, the Seeker!"

Richard smiled even as stones settled in his gut. He was tired. All he wanted was a hot meal and bed. He did not mind smiling and telling stories for the people, but right now he just wanted to be Richard.

And they wanted him to be the one true Seeker.

Richard was swept up in the crowd along with Kahlan, Zedd, and Haden. Apparently the rumors that he traveled with a Mord'Sith were not very specific, as no one questioned Haden's presence despite her obvious physical dissimilarities with Cara.

Before he knew what was happening, they were seated at a banquet table in some wealthy person's house, and Zedd seemed to have somehow suggested a feast.

That was his grandfather, always finding ways to get free food.

"Seeker," a young man said, eagerness practically radiating from him, "the banelings and screelings and other monsters are gone! How did you do it? Everyone is talking about how the Seeker sealed the veil."

Richard's face closed, not an actual changing of expression but a feeling of withdrawal. Kahlan placed her hand on his knee under the table.

Gathering his courage, Richard answered loudly enough for all to hear, "I'm not the one who sealed the veil. In fact, I almost helped the Keeper win because I was foolish." Kahlan's nails pressed against the fabric of his breeches. He glanced at her to see the sour expression on her face.

But she couldn't deny he was telling the truth. Turning back to the crowd, Richard continued, "The real heroes were Hali of the Healing Hands, who gave her life to save the living, Mistress Cara of the Mord'Sith, and my brother… Darken Rahl."

The crowd exploded in exclamations and angry whispers, mutterings and murmurings creating a chaotic wall of sound.

It took Haden standing and demanding they respect the House of Rahl for the villagers to quiet.

Richard thought it was more likely respect for her Agiel than for the ruling house of D'Hara that did the trick.

"Everyone just please listen. A lot has happened. Believe me when I say that without Darken Rahl, _who is my older brother_ , the world would have been swallowed by the Keeper."

Some of the villagers left. Some scoffed. Some were obviously enraged beyond all reason.

But others stayed.

It was, Richard thought, a start.

Kahlan never let go of his knee, staring straight ahead through the entirety of his recount of all that had happened since the day the compass led them to Hali.

Zedd hung on every word, though he had lived the events himself, on hand firmly over his mouth.

Haden watched the crowd, disguising her interest. She was here only to repay the life debt she owed to the wizard.

Never the less, it was… entertaining to hear tales of Mistress Cara and Lord Rahl… and Richard Rahl.

She supposed she would have to call him Lord Rahl the Younger.

Pity it was such a mouth full.

**-l-**

Miles away, Darken pulled his horse up short, scanning the land surrounding them. All the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up, his skin crawling with that sense that had always served to warn him of something… amiss.

"What is it?" Cara questioned, turning her horse in tight circles in an attempt to spot any lurking danger.

"I'm not sure," was Darken's reply.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Gain**

* * *

Darken watched Cara sleep. They had camped against a sheer cliff's edge, the terrain becoming mountainous and rocky with pocket valleys the closer they got to D'Hara. The backdrop of granite meant that no one could approach them from behind.

In the violent chaos the Midlands had become, every advantage helped.

Gazing at Cara, idly admiring the way she filled out her leathers, Darken mused on his plans for D'Hara. He would first need to ascertain who among the D'Harans would follow him, and who could be coerced into it. The Mord'Sith were fiercely loyal, and would be even more so when they saw Cara had returned to his side.

Where Cara led, her Sisters followed.

Whether they liked it or not.

Unaware of the look of fondness on his face, Darken reached out to tuck some of Cara's hair behind her ear. It was an awkward length now, long enough to get in the way but still too short to wear in the proper style of the Mord'Sith.

It was another thing that set her apart from other Mord'Sith. Darken liked it.

She frowned in her sleep, little wrinkles appearing on her brow. He traced her lips, marveling that it did not wake her. A rabbit jumping through the underbrush was enough to start her from sleep, Agiel in hand, yet when he touched her…some part of her recognized him as safe.

It meant a great deal.

He trailed his fingertips down her neck to the leather strap that held the amulet of their son's bones at her throat. He let his hand rest there on the tough red strap, not daring to touch Nicholas' bones.

He didn't think of all that he had lost. It was not a habit he liked to indulge in. He preferred to think of his conquests, his victories, the things he had gained.

When ruler of D'Hara, he had gained riches and territories. He had gained enemies. At the time he had not thought Cara a gain. She was simply Cara, a Mord'Sith who would serve him forever.

Nicholas had been a threat, a small creature that would grow large and threaten to take all that was Darken's. He was a problem that was easily dealt with.

No remorse. Not then, at any rate.

Only after his death in a fiery explosion of green had Darken come to understand the things that were truly worth having.

Power meant remembrance, a mark on the world none could erase.

But it did not matter in the underworld.

His former subjects pulled his statues down, some lamented the loss of stability.

But none had actually mourned him. None of them missed Darken.

Not even Cara.

Any laments were for Lord Rahl the king, not the man.

No one waited to greet him in the underworld.

Not even his mother.

He had not tried to find her.

He had returned to life determined to earn a place in the Creator's light, to become a hero the people would follow.

He had gained things that no one ever thought he would have. Things he had not known he wanted.

A brother. A lover. A friend. A son.

The friend was gone. The son walked the gardens of the spirit world.

When he had died again, for the fourth time, he had been mourned by his brother and his lover.

Something Panis Rahl had always thought an impossibility.

He wasn't alone in that assumption.

_What do you know about love?_

How many times had Kahlan Amnell spat those words at him?

He had been given life once more, one last chance to do it right, get the things he wanted.

He wanted Cara. Forever.

The more he thought of it, the more he found a life without her unacceptable.

It didn't matter why. He found that the reason why had stopped mattering so much to him. All that mattered was that he needed her.

The desire was no less powerful for not having a name.

Cara's eyelids flickered, her mouth turning downwards as her troubles haunted her dreams.

Darken was afraid. He was horribly afraid of losing Cara to death, to his brother, to the protocol and politics inherit to ruling a country. A Mord'Sith had never been queen.

Did he want her to be queen?

Most of all he feared losing her to a crime he had committed before he understood what it was that he was depriving them of.

Nicholas had forgiven him.

But he did not think Cara ever could.

Darken extended one finger, touching the bones of his son.

She could never know.

 

 

 

 

* * *

**Chapter 8: Path**

* * *

Cara could see her son. He was right in front of her.

But no matter how many steps she took, he never got any closer.

No matter how hard she tried to save him, he was engulfed by the flames of the underworld.

She awoke with a start, a raspy indrawn breath. Darken gazed down at her, his blue eyes unfathomable. He did not comment on her obviously troubled sleep, and she was grateful.

There was nothing either of them could do to change their son's fate. Talking of it would accomplish nothing.

Sitting up slowly, Cara leaned over to kiss Darken's neck. He threaded fingers through her hair, savoring the searing sweetness of the moment. Then they both rose to break camp and saddle the horses.

They still had a long way to go over war-torn country, and the sun was already turning the horizon a blood-tinged pink.

**-l-**

Zedd stopped at a fork in the road, turning to meet Richard's grin with one of his own. The left fork led to Aydindril, but the right…

"Why are we going this way?" Haden asked in that blunt way of hers. Zedd found her incredibly amusing. When he was bored on the trail it was really quite fun to try to get a sentence out of Haden.

"We're going to fetch my sister, Jennsen," Richard smiled, seeming less tired in his excitement to be finally gaining the thing he had been missing since he began this crazy quest.

"Richard and I made a promise," Zedd explained, "that when everything was over and the land was at peace again, we would find Jennsen and be a family."

Haden blinked.

"But the land isn't at peace."

Zedd's frustrated grumble and Kahlan's surprised laughter echoed through the trees.

**-l-**

"Brother Jarl, thank Tyrn you've come."

The aged Brother smiled, laying calming hands on the village elder who had worked himself into a frenzy. "Calm yourself, elder. I heard of your troubling visitors and I came as fast as I could, Tyrn blessing my journey."

The village elder nodded, taking a deep breath.

Jarl pushed the hood of his fine silk twill robes back, exposing his tanned, weathered face and shaved head. "The messenger said that you had a visit from undesirables but no priest of our order to cleanse the village once you had driven her out."

The elder nodded, placing two fingers against his lips, the sign against evil. If you did not make the sign to ward off evil, it would enter your soul through the mouth, carried on the bad talk and wicked deeds of the insidious.

"It grows more frightening all the time, Brother Jarl. We would not have known that she was a witch woman if she weren't wearing a white dress. The children drove her out with rotten vegetables. I've checked all of them personally every day to be certain she has not got even with some kind of curse."

Jarl nodded. "It is good that I am the one that came, then. All of the soul stealers, the Confessors, were wiped out save one, and she is the worst. It will take all of the strength of my prayers to Tyrn and his sons and brothers to banish the taint her presence has left on the village."

The elder paled. "Taint?"

"Yes," Jarl nodded as he began steering the elder to the town center, "it would be best if you asked for any young men or boys who feel the calling to be trained in the Brotherhood while I am here. So that they may protect the village from the impure ones, those vile creatures that aspire to godhood."

Face aflame with zealotry, the elder replied, "I will call for my sons and their sons. We are a pious, good people."

**-l-**

Haden waited on the road. She stood before a house very much like the one she had lived in before she had been chosen to join the Sisterhood of the Agiel. She remembered that it had been drafty in the winter and hot in the summer.

Truly, living in the temples of the Mord'Sith was much better.

Lord Rahl the Younger emerged, followed by the wizard and the Mother Confessor. The Mother Confessor walked arm in arm with a small, redheaded woman.

She didn't look very interesting or very strong. Haden supposed she would have to resign herself to an even slower pace.

This Lord Rahl was not very efficient at all.

"Hello," the redhead chirped at her like a little bird.

Chirped.

Like a bird.

Haden ignored her, simply shouldering her pack once more in anticipation of falling in line behind the wizard.

"This is Haden," Kahlan supplied, a wry smile on her face. "She helped us at the Battle of the Pillars." Putting a touch of friendly mockery into her voice, Kahlan added, "She's shy."

Zedd laughed, a deep belly-aching guffaw that threatened to turn into hiccups.

Or tears.

Jennsen smiled at Haden. When Haden simply glared and moved on down the path, Jennsen's smile faded. She wondered if she had done something to make the woman dislike her.

**-l-**

Darken pulled his horse to a halt, waiting for Cara to do the same. Their path wound upwards, alongside a mountain.

"The horses can't scale that, but we can't carry the supplies without them."

Cara pursed her lips.

"There is another route that I know of, my lord."

Darken felt the muscles of his neck tighten as his title fell once more from her lips. He waited.

"We will have to risk passing near a resistance village."

"How near?"

Cara did not answer

 

 

* * *

**Chapter 9: Clear**

* * *

"What are you thinking about?" Richard settled himself by Kahlan.

She kept her gaze on the stars, "Hali."

The light faded from Richard's eyes, "What about her?"

A flash of memory, the wet thump of his sword plunging through her chest, the horror of the bloodied point coming out of her back, the shock in her blind eyes.

The futility of struggling against the Keeper.

The self-disgust, the thought that he simply hadn't fought hard enough.

The small dark spots in his heart that held hatred.

"I was thinking about some of the things she used to say to me. How much I hated hearing them," Kahlan turned to look at him, voice soft, her long hair falling around her face in waves.

Richard cupped her cheek, admiring her delicate white skin next to his rough hand. He wondered how she stayed so soft and beautiful when she fought every bit as hard as he.

It was the miracle that was Kahlan.

"Those things you said in that village. About Rahl. How he saved the world. That wasn't wise, Richard," Kahlan said, changing the subject and not changing it at the same time.

Richard pulled his hand away, stung and immediately defensive.

"It was the right thing. It was the truth."

Kahlan shifted so that she could face him completely, taking both of his hands in hers, "Richard, think on this. Rahl is roaming free now, and probably plans to try to take back D'Hara. How much easier will it be for him if the Seeker is going around calling him brother and telling stories of his heroism? It's exactly what Rahl would have had you do if Denna had succeeded in training you."

Angry, Richard pulled his hands from Kahlan's, "Are you, the Mother Confessor, telling me to lie?" He stood, going to join the others by the fire. "Maybe it would have been better if Denna had succeeded. The veil would have never been torn and we would have had peace in the Midlands, not this war with no sides!" Richard gestured wildly with his hands, incredibly incensed.

He had thought Kahlan had accepted his brother.

Kahlan hurried to catch him, saying quickly and quietly, "Richard, what if you're helping unleash the tyrant we spent so much time fighting on the world again?"

"He's changed."

"Monsters like him don't change."

Back stiff, Richard stopped, a hoarse laugh escaping him as he thought of all he had been through with Darken at his side. All he had done without Darken at his side.

All he had done to Darken and Hali.

And Cara.

"No," Richard said as he started walking again. "I guess we don't."

"Richard!"

She hadn't meant that the way it sounded.

He carried on as if he hadn't heard her, taking a seat beside Jennsen.

He wanted to tell her about their brother before Kahlan got a chance to.

He hated this side of himself.

**-l-**

Cara sat up, gasping, choking back a wail at a particularly vivid dream. She clasped the amulet she wore with both hands, imperceptibly trembling.

It wasn't until he spoke that she realized Darken had been holding her as she slept.

"You will tell me what you dream of."

Cara shook her head, "It isn't important."

It was important to Darken. He wanted to ease Cara's mind, wanted this terror, whatever it was, to leave her so that she would be whole and wholly his again.

But he had no idea how to go about it.

The old Cara would never have refused a direct order. Argued about it, yes, but she would have ultimately obeyed.

The old Lord Rahl would not have allowed her disobedience.

Darken knew he could insist she tell him. He could simply ignore her disquiet.

No he couldn't.

With a mental sigh, he began to stroke Cara's back.

Nothing was clear anymore.

* * *

**Chapter 10: Reaching**

* * *

Darken and Cara led their horses quietly along the edge of a sleeping village, hooves muffled by a saddle blanket torn for the purpose. They had to get around the mountain path, but a village of the resistance sat squarely in the valley that cut through the mountain. They were passing unnervingly close.

Darken had wanted to simply don concealing cloaks and ride through at midday as if they were nothing more than ordinary travelers. Cara had argued that the former resistance fighters would be checking identities.

The heads wearing D'Haran helmets mounted outside the village had swayed Darken to her plan of action.

So they muffled the horses' feet and snuck.

Darken was quite adept at sneaking. Sneaking was always preferable to a messy battle.

So why did it offend him so to be tiptoeing through the dark, quailing at the sight of a village of farmers-turned-bandit?

When he sat once more on D'Hara's bloody throne, this village would be the first to swear to him.

He would see to it personally.

**-l-**

Jennsen frowned as she watched Kahlan try to talk to her brother. Richard just shook his head at her and walked faster. Kahlan seemed so upset.

Richard had spent the night telling Jennsen of the things that Rahl…Darken…had done to save the world of the living. How he cared for Cara, how he had stopped Richard from destroying the world.

Kahlan had spent the day expressing her concerns to Richard, loud enough for Jennsen and the others to hear. Of course she understood that he had earned the right to freely live again, she said. Of course Kahlan didn't mean he should be killed again, she said.

Unless, she said.

Unless he took the throne again, unless he suppressed the people again, unless unless unless.

The only memories Jennsen had of Lord Rahl himself were of him treating her kindly, caressing the Boxes of Orden… The tears in his eyes as he recalled his childhood.

She had assumed for so long that it was all an act, a ploy to get her to betray Richard. She had even assumed that he lied about the three of them being siblings.

But he hadn't.

Was he telling the truth the whole time?

She remembered the shock that had crossed his face when she kissed his cheek. Had he ever had any affection freely given to him?

_Above all, he simply wants to be loved._

"Are they always like this?" Jennsen asked her grandfather, nodding in the direction of Kahlan and Richard.

"Always," Haden deadpanned before Zedd could answer.

Jennsen giggled, unable to help herself.

"We need to camp soon. You're old," Haden continued as if she had not heard Jennsen's laughter. The sun had long since disappeared over the horizon.

"Thank you for the reminder." Zedd rolled his eyes in Jennsen's direction. She didn't bother to hide her grin.

Jennsen had never interacted with a Mord'Sith aside from the one that had come to claim her on Lord Rahl's orders. Denna had been both terrifying and terrified.

Jennsen hated her.

But Haden… Haden was like a bad-tempered dog. She grumbled and growled, but Jennsen felt secure that she would not bite.

Not so long as she owed Grandfather a life debt, at any rate.

**-l-**

They had almost left the village behind when the hairs on the back of Darken's neck stood at attention. Not questioning the sudden feeling of urgency, he vaulted onto his horse's back, shouting to Cara, "Ride!"

She mounted, digging her heels into her steed's side. The horses gained speed, but slowly. They couldn't run full tilt on the rocky terrain, not without the danger of breaking a leg or bruising a hoof. But still they ran, though the village was quiet and nothing chased them.

Nothing they could see, at any rate.

Darken had begun to wonder if he imagined the danger - when the first creature appeared. Was it a wolf? A hound?

Whatever it was, it was enormous, its red tongue hanging from its mouth.

Darken had never read or heard of any such creature, but its glowing eyes told him one thing.

It was made with sorcery.

A pack of them emerged, melting out of the shadows of the scrubby trees that grew on the mountainside. Could they become invisible, or had he just not seen them hiding?

The beasts were easily large enough to bring down a horse on their own. A pack was overkill.

Did they protect the village, or was this attack coincidence?

Darken didn't believe in coincidence.

Four of the creatures slammed onto the path in front of him, cutting him off from Cara. Her horse reared and then launched into a dangerous gallop, eyes rolling white, bloody foam flowing from its mouth as Cara sawed at the reins.

But the animal's fear was too great.

Darken urged his horse faster, desperate to get to Cara. He drew his sword, swinging it from side to side to keep the sorcerous wolves that harried him at bay. He watched as Cara leaned dangerously far to the side to drive her Agiel into the eye of the beast that had been snapping at her horse's foreleg.

The Agiel didn't have a long enough reach. If she came out of the saddle…

Resistance met Darken's sword and he heard a growl as black blood leaked from a cut on a creature's face.

His blade came away chipped as he struck bone.

Another creature appeared from nowhere right before Cara, cutting off her horse's flight. The horse reared, Cara leaning forward to wrap her arms around its neck to keep herself from coming off its back, her feet dangling in the stirrups as the horse stood almost completely vertical.

Darken found himself screaming her name, unable to accept that there was nothing he could do, no way for him to save her. He had just gotten her back, she was _his_ and he would not give her up for something so trivial. He would not lose her to mindless beasts.

One of the creatures that ran at his horse's side lunged, clamping powerful jaws on his boot.

A red-hot pressure built in Darken's head, squeezing his temples from within and without. He extended a hand, reaching for Cara as her horse toppled backwards and he was dragged from his saddle.

_Reaching._

The beasts howled their victory as the horses screamed their death.

 

_Art by dorothydeath_

* * *

 

  
**Chapter 11: Divine**   


  


* * *

Cara closed her eyes, waiting for the crushing weight of the horse, the savage teeth of the creatures that chased them. If the fall did not kill her immediately, she would do as much damage as she could before she was overwhelmed.

Mord'Sith rarely lived to a ripe old age. She had known for years that her death would come out of the bloody dark to devour her whole.

And then, nothing.

Cara opened her eyes.

No horses. No giant wolves.

She stood on a flat plateau overlooking scrubby forest. They were still in the same region then.

 

But where?

  
And more importantly, how?

Hearing a groan, Cara whirled, pulling her second Agiel from its straps at her hip.

It was Darken. He lay sprawled on the chalky rock of the plateau, his cloak tangled around him, leather tunic creaking as he clutched his head. One of his boots was missing.

Quickly sheathing her Agiels, Cara knelt, shifting his head to rest on her thighs.  
He opened bleary, bloodshot eyes.

"Cara?"

"I'm here."

He clutched at his head again. Cara batted his hands away, gently rubbing at his temples. He groaned and she rolled her eyes.

He had always been horribly dramatic about small injuries and unnecessarily difficult about larger ones.

She carefully did not think of the last time she had cradled him this way, praying to any who would listen to keep him breathing.

His eyes slid shut, his chest rising and falling as he fell into a deep, and she hoped, healing, sleep.

Explanations could wait. What mattered was that they were not in any immediate danger. They would need food and water soon, but for now she was simply grateful not to be underneath a horse as hellhounds tore her limb from limb.

**-l-**

Brother Gudrun followed the lead wolf of the pack of Fenrisulfr. The beasts, children of Tyrn and his brothers, had been sent to the world of man to aid the Brotherhood of the Gods in eradicating those who wrongly held power that belonged only in divine hands. Village men followed him, still ill at ease with the godly children.

The enormous wolves could smell magic.

They came to a place barely beyond the outskirts of the village. The Fenrisulfr stood in a circle around a pile of bones and scraps of leather and supplies. As the lead wolf approached, the rest of the pack lowered their heads.

Brother Gudrun still found their behavior disturbing, though he would not show it to the villagers that depended upon him for guidance in the ways of Tyrn.

It was easy to forget that the creatures were divine.

"You see, brothers," Gudrun said with a sweeping gesture. "Undesirables so close to our very doors. There is no telling what sort of blasphemous evil they would have performed if we were not protected by Tyrn and his children."

The village men fearfully whispered to one another about the safety of their wives and children, hammy fists tightening, faces flushed in anger.

Turning to the lead wolf, Brother Gudrun inclined his head. "We give thanks to the Fenrisulfr and to the Virgin Mother."

The villagers bowed their heads, placing two fingers on their lips to make the sign against evil.

The Fenrisulfr flowed back into the shadows as if they had never been present.

**-l-**

"Aydindril trades with this village," Kahlan said, quietly happy. "We'll be there before sunset tomorrow."

For the sake of peace, she had given up on her attempts to make Richard understand the dangers of speaking well of Rahl to the people, the dangers of the elder Rahl retaking D'Hara.

She would fight this battle alone, if she had to. She would soon be reinstated in Aydindril.

Kahlan knew Richard had come to care for his brother. She herself felt a certain gratitude, though she would never trust or like him.

But he had proven that he could not be trusted to temper power with mercy.

She only hoped she could get Richard to see that before it was too late.

They passed the village center. A man was standing on a crate, a woman who could be his wife standing quietly behind him. She wore muted colors and kept her eyes downcast.

"And in the end, Tyrn will reward the faithful and cast down those who held false power and false gods to their hearts!" the man declaimed as they walked by. A crowd was gathered around him.

"What is he talking about?" Jennsen inquired, looking back at him. "Everyone knows that the Creator is the true god. Who is this Tyrn?"

Zedd smiled gently at his granddaughter. "Aydindril has always maintained that all have the freedom to express their beliefs. The Midlands have not always believed in the Creator. Thousands of years ago, before the Wizard Wars, there were many beliefs, many religions, and many tribes of people."

"But how can they still believe it?" Richard joined the conversation. "Most have seen the work of the Keeper with their own eyes," He paused, a fleeting shadow darkening his countenance, then a quiet look of awe. "Hali walked with us."

"Wizard's First Rule, Richard," Zedd replied wearily, "Wizard's First Rule."

Haden remained quiet, observing all around her.

Her eyes widened when she caught sight of a familiar face.

 

* * *

**Chapter 12: Warning**

* * *

Darken dreamt.

He was in the garden again, surrounded by the bright light that did not blind. Someone clasped his hand, a familiar grip.

  
Beautiful clear brown eyes watched him imploringly. Lips moved, but he could not hear what they said.

He tried.

His other hand was grasped. Darken turned, looking down to see –

"Nicholas."

Cara started, having begun to drift into a trance as she kept watch over Darken.

Had he just said…?

He had.

A burden eased. Cara had not known how heavy it was.

Darken also dreamt of their son.

His brow wrinkled as he thrashed, frustration evident in his face.

Cara smoothed the lines away, glancing up to gauge the moon's position in the sky. She would have to wake him soon.

**-l-**

Haden crept silently from the room she shared with the wizard at the inn. She had insisted on being able to protect him as he slept. The sooner she discharged her life debt, the better.

He snored horribly.

Idly she considered killing him herself and then reviving him with the breath of life.

But that would not be honorable.

All was quiet as she descended the stairs and exited the main room. She knew where to find the one she sought.

A back alley and a knock on a rickety door. Ten beats of silence.

The door creaked open.

"Haden."

  
"Melena," Haden said to the other Mord'Sith. "You have maintained your cover?"

The strawberry blonde nodded, tugging at the revealing peasant's dress she wore. "I await the next Lord Rahl."

"Wait no longer. I have news."

Melena offered Haden a seat and a glass of questionable wine. Haden accepted both and told Melena of all she had heard and experienced since following Mistress Garen to battle.

"Mistress Cara and Lord Rahl ride for D'Hara now. Lord Rahl the Younger follows the Mother Confessor, but he is loyal to his brother."

"And the girl? She is their sister?"

"She is not important enough to matter," Haden answered, turning her face away.

Melena smirked, knowing her old friend well. Haden protested too much…

"What is it you want of me?"

"Warn the temples of the danger the Mother Confessor poses to Lord Rahl's return. I am not sure which side Lord Rahl the Younger will choose if he is pressed."

Melena nodded, going to dig through a battered trunk. Beneath her leathers and Agiel there was a journey book.

"She was foolish to speak of this in front of you."

"She forgets my true loyalties. I owe the wizard a life debt, but I am pledged to the House of Rahl."

Melena nodded. "Get back before they miss you. I will let the temples know. I'm sure they will send quads to find our mistress and Lord Rahl."

Haden slipped out of the hut without saying goodbye. Melena did not mind. It was simply Haden's way.

They did not arrange to meet again, but Melena had a feeling that Haden would find a way should anything come up.

* * *

**Chapter 13: Unsaid**

* * *

Haden arrived back at the inn long before her traveling companions awoke. Disdaining to enter the room where the wizard snored away, she propped herself against the door to doze until first light.

Jennsen was the first to stir. She exited the room she had been sharing with the Mother Confessor, yawning and stretching. Seeing Haden leaning against the door in the hall, she smiled.

"Did Grandfather's snoring keep you awake? You could have come to our room."

Haden ignored her, staring straight ahead.

After an awkward pause Jennsen turned to leave, figuring the Mord'Sith didn't like being bothered in the morning.

Or ever, really.

She had just reached the stairs to go down to breakfast when Haden's voice broke the stillness.

"You're up early."

Jennsen looked back to find that same stoic look on the woman's face.

"I've lived on a lot of farms. It's habit."

More silence.

"I was going to get breakfast."

Haden looked at her, face carefully neutral. "I cannot leave the wizard unguarded."

Tilting her head, Jennsen studied the recalcitrant warrior. She was starting to realize that with Haden, what was left unsaid was often more important than what actually was said.

Reaching a conclusion, Jennsen offered, "I could bring you breakfast and we could eat together."  
Haden nodded.

**-l-**

Darken awoke to see Cara's silhouette against the backdrop of the sky, the sun already high.

It had been night, those creatures, the wolves – he had wanted a safe escape, to save himself…to save Cara.

  
He had willed it so.

His eyes widened in disbelief.

"Cara," he said, his voice scratchy with sleep.

She turned, coming over to sit at his side as he sat up.

"You slept the rest of the night and most of the morning. Is your head any better?"

His head?

Vaguely he recalled the splitting pain, the backlash of using magic without proper direction. He had gotten them before in years long past when he had striven to perform spells beyond his power.

But this body didn't have magic.

The type of magic that could transport them from danger without an incantation, even less so.

Ignoring Cara's question, he asked, "When you revived me at the pillars, did you notice anything unusual as my soul returned?"

Cara leaned back, giving him one of the incredulous looks he had often seen her level on his brother. "I didn't revive you. The breath of life didn't work."

Darken blinked, lifting his hand to rub at his bottom lip. He had always assumed that his return to the world of the living was due to Cara's Mord'Sith abilities.

Steeling herself so that her voice would not crack, reliving the moments as she described them, Cara said, "When the light hit your body…all of the bodies, there was a flash. Everything changed…"

She trailed off, eyes clouded with memory. Darken looked at her, waiting for her to continue. She shook herself, saying, "When the light had faded, Hali was…how she was, and our son…" Cara reached up to touch the amulet at her throat.

She met Darken's eyes, an intensity in their locked gazes. "You were gone, as if you had never been. I thought… But Haden found you, lying in the waves, washed up on the sand."

Seeming to be talking more to himself than Cara, Darken mumbled, "I was with the Creator and Nicholas, the Creator kissed me, and then –"

" _Our son walks with the Creator?_ " Cara seized his shoulders in a powerful grip, her face mere inches from his, a wild look in her eyes.

Realization struck Darken like lightning.

He should have known what troubled his lioness. She was brutal, an uncanny fighter, the most cunning and accomplished of all the Mord'Sith.

Made all the fiercer for the mother's heart that beat in her breast.

"Our son basks in the Creator's light. I often dream of seeing him in her company."

She let him go abruptly, swiftly standing to turn her back to him. "I will go look for a source of water," her voice was unnaturally thick.

His heart beating oddly in his chest, Darken said softly, "Don't go far."

A throaty choked laugh, then, "Yes, Lord Rahl."

Struck with the odd feeling that he had somehow done something wrong and was now being punished for it, Darken watched her go.

He didn't understand.

**-l-**

Lounging in the chambers that used to belong to Mistress Denna, Constance mused on what she would do that day. Her temple was all but abandoned, D'Hara was scattered to the winds. She was without purpose, a ship without a sail.

She checked her journey book every day, in hopes of new orders. Constance was a devout Mord'Sith, skilled in the training of slaves.

But she was not a leader.

Every day she looked for orders. Every day she was disappointed.

  
But not today.

There was a message.

Lord Rahl was alive and needed the aid of the Sisterhood.

Constance touched the words on the page to be sure they were real. She would gather what few Sisters resided with her and leave at once.

* * *

**Chapter 14: Relief**

* * *

Cara paced in circles around the plateau where Darken waited for her, careful not to go too far. She could not find water.

  
If they did not find a source or a village that would sell to them in the next few days…

Irritated with herself, Cara rubbed at her face with a gloved hand, frowning when she saw moisture glisten on the leather.

She had cried more in the past few months than she had ever cried in all the time since she had earned her Agiel.

But this was the last time. Her son was with the Creator, at peace at last. She didn't need to weep for him anymore.

  
She dashed the tears from her face, ashamed they would not stop.

Who knew that it was possible to bury sorrow only to become a fountain of salty tears when met with relief?

And happiness.

Cara removed a glove, laying her bare hand against the bones of her son.

She felt warm. Whole.

Herself again.

She would return to Lord Rahl's side and they would continue to D'Hara.

And bring peace to the empire.

Cara turned her face upwards, wondering if her son watched her.

He would be proud of his parents. She would see to it.

They would all meet again in the Creator's light.

**-l-**

Waiting for Cara to return and knowing she would not until she was ready, Darken experimented.

Though it had not been widely known, Darken had never been a very powerful wizard. He was capable of illusions, using set rune spells, magical detection, no more. He had studied and understood the theory of many greater spells, but nothing had changed his inability to carry them out.

  
And so he practiced now the few small spells he was capable of.

He had magic, that was definite.

But how powerful?

Mentally, he recited an incantation he had once used to light the candles in his suite, concentrating on the end of a stick he had found.

A pillar of flame shot into the sky, the stick burned to ashes in seconds, the flames like a signal flare as they rose up and up, rock melting into bubbling lava around the base of the fire.

Darken scrambled back, his eyebrows singed, sweat pouring from his face, the sole of his one bare foot burning. He cursed his missing boot. Frantically he tried to remember the incantation to put out a fire, flubbed it, then said it out loud, concentrating on every syllable, gesturing as he did so.

The inferno winked out of existence just as Cara scrambled over the lip of the plateau, Agiels in hand.

She scanned the area, muscles tense, Agiels humming lowly. Seeing no one, she looked at Darken, an eyebrow raised.

He was getting rather tired of being on the receiving end of those looks. They were much more amusing when directed at someone else.

"It appears," he announced dryly, "that I have magic."

"There's no need to burn the forest down."

He looked at her sharply, an angry retort on the tip of his tongue when he saw the wicked gleam in her eye.

She was playing.

He drew his Agiel, assuming a ready stance. They had surely earned a distraction.

"You will be punished for your impertinence, Mistress Cara."

She smiled and it was achingly beautiful, a brutal, joyous expression that he had not seen her wear in far too long.

Then she lunged.

**-l-**

Miles away, in a cave hidden by their abilities, Skull, the alpha of the Fenrisulfr, lifted his head.

He sensed magic.

He summoned the pack and set out.

**-l-**

There was a flaring of trumpets, people hushed in awe, smiles on their faces as Kahlan strode into the hall of Aydindril, resplendent in a freshly washed gown of white. Richard and Zedd followed behind her, Jennsen and Haden after them.

  
Dennee rose from the high backed chair reserved for the judging Confessor.

"Sister!" she greeted, rushing forward to kiss Kahlan on both cheeks. She wore the unfamiliar face of the woman Denna had placed her soul in, her hair brown and bone structure more fine than Dennee's had ever truly been, but she still _felt_ like Dennee to Kahlan.

Whispering in her ear, Dennee said "We have much to catch up on. Some good, some bad."

Before Kahlan could process those words, Dennee gestured, saying for all to hear, "Your chair, Mother Confessor."

Kahlan sat, her friends moving to stand on either side of her.

The people cheered.

* * *

**Chapter 15: Shape**

* * *

After Kahlan had judged the cases of the afternoon and the people had left the audience hall, Dennee came forward.

Her new body looked good in her robes of office.

  
"Kahlan, there is much we must speak on."

Kahlan smiled and nodded, following Dennee to a small chamber off the main hall that was used for conferences. Richard followed, only to be halted by Dennee's hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry, Seeker, but this is the business of Confessors."

Richard opened his mouth but was cut off by Kahlan before he could begin.

"Please, Richard," she smiled softly, "wait with the others."

She could see the hurt on his face, but she was truly the Mother Confessor now. The traditions and duties of her people were hers to uphold. She would explain to Richard once she finished her conference with Dennee.

He would understand that she had to be more than the Seeker's Confessor.

Once the heavy door of the chamber had closed behind them, Dennee smiled, rushing forward to hug Kahlan tightly as protocol had kept her from doing before their subjects.

"How is your son? And Renn?"

Dennee pulled back, studying Kahlan's face. "They are doing well. I'll take you to see them in a moment. But first, there are things we need to discuss."

Sobering, Kahlan nodded. "I'm ready."

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you about the fighting that ravages the land. I thought it would get better with the sealing of the veil, but…"

"I know," Kahlan sighed. "It's worse. Everyone is trying to reclaim the land that Rahl took, all at once. Others just want to stay alive and are driven to crime because of the poverty the years of fighting has left…and the looting that's happening now."

"People need us more than ever. But there are only the two of us left."

Kahlan stiffened, knowing where this was going.

"Kahlan, we need to take mates. To ensure the safety of the people, the continuance of the Confessor line… We must."

Her face feeling like it was made of waxy stone, Kahlan crossed her arms, staring absently at the door.

Richard was on the other side of it.

"You could," Dennee began hastily, "take Richard. He would agree."

"I am not asking that of him!" Kahlan was outraged that Dennee could even suggest such a thing. Confessors did not take good men to their beds.

Quietly, persuasively, with a finesse she had gained in the time she had sat in the judge's chair in Aydindril, Dennee said, "It would solve much of what ails the land. I have heard that Richard is of the House of Rahl. With him as your consort, you could legally rule D'Hara. The next Rahl could be a Confessor. A force for good."

Kahlan did not answer, lost in memories that were not hers.

"Think on it," Dennee said, placing a hand on her elder sister's arm.

She knew her words caused pain, but it was something she was accustomed to. Part of being a Confessor was doing the hard thing, saying the right thing.

No matter the look of hurt it put on your only sister's face.

**-l-**

Cara lay naked on warm stone, looking up at the clear sky, her eyes heavy. The pace of their travel had worn on her more than she had thought - it seemed she was constantly tired. In quiet moments like this, she wished they would never reach D'Hara.

A part of her that she would not give voice to feared that Darken would not want her anymore once they reached the capital. Not in the way he did now.

But she ignored that silent insecurity.

She was the First Mistress of the Mord'Sith. She would not allow him to deny her.

"We still need water," she heard herself saying as Darken strode back and forth across the rock, mumbling to himself. She admired his naked backside, his muscles bunching and loosening under his tanned skin.

"I never learned to call water," was his retort.

He did not say that he had not been powerful enough before.

He turned to eye Cara, the sheen of sweat coating her skin making her shine under the hot sun.

"You're going to burn," he said thickly.

She closed her eyes, smirking at him.

In the distance, made hazy by the waves of summer heat rising from the stone, a carrion bird circled.

Darken took it as a sign. He had not wanted to attempt the spell until he had a firmer grasp of his new powers. He hated to admit it, but he had never learned to vary his force. With his previous magical strength, everything had been all or nothing. Either he threw all his strength and will into a spell, or it didn't work.

Now, with such power at his command…it required a light touch, and he found himself frustratingly ham handed.

"Get dressed, Cara," he said with a confidence he did not entirely feel. "We fly for the palace."

"As hawks?" Cara smirked. She loved to fly.

"As hawks."

He hoped.

Once they had dressed, Darken reached for his han, concentrating on his breath as he had never been powerful enough to need, but had seen others do.

There was no room for hesitance in magic.

Imagining the birds he wished them to become, Darken gestured, throwing a mental net of magic around both their forms.

  
There was a swirl of darkness as his spell took shape.

* * *

**Chapter 16: Wings**

* * *

The heat that had been dangerous to them as humans was incredibly fortuitous to their bird forms. Warm updrafts filled their wings, propelling them ever upward. They turned height into distance, gliding down again at an angle without having to waste energy flapping.

Darken had done it. They were hawks, though not of any usual variety. They were a little too large, their wingspans a little too great, Darken solid black and Cara a tawny gold.

He felt confident he could repeat the transformation spell now that he had done it once. The only thing that remained to be seen was whether he could change them back.

He did not think on it overly much. With his new great power, what he could do, he could surely undo.

A piercing avian scream rent the air and Darken banked to the side just in time to avoid being mobbed by Cara, who had been flying above him. She so loved to show off her flying prowess with airborne acrobatics. She strained ahead, flapping hard as she spiraled back upwards on an updraft.

Darken followed, not to be outdone.

They caught sight of a familiar landmark in the distance.

They would reach D'Hara in three days as the hawk flies.

And then.

**-l-**

Asleep in the luxurious rooms that had housed the Mother Confessor for generations, Kahlan dreamed.

_Kahlan._

_Kahlan Amnell._

Kahlan stood in a desert, the water-starved ground cracked all around her. Everything was overly bright, surreal.

Before her eyes, plants of every imaginable shape sprung from the dry earth, determined stems, leaves, and petals spread for the sun.

Two trees grew side by side, one a sapling, the other well into its prime.

Between them grew a white climbing rose, entwining itself around both.

There was a howl and Kahlan turned to see a sandstorm approaching. Shapes moved in the tempest, wolves and warriors, men turning into animals.

_Kahlan._

Her hair whipping around her head, Kahlan turned back to face the trees and the climbing rose.

A girl with cloudy eyes stood beside the plants, a blackbird perched on her raised forearm. She was swathed in the robes of the desert nomads, a tooth hanging from a leather thong around her neck identifying her as the high priestess.

_Should the Mother Confessor betray the Son of Blood, the world will fall, all magic erased._

As Kahlan watched, the white climbing rose strangled the tree it had used for support, the leaves and branches going dull with rot.

Though the rose did nothing to it, the sapling died too, just before the rest of the plants were ripped away and buried as the sandstorm reached them.

Kahlan jerked awake, sitting up with a gasp as her heart pounded in her chest.

There was a flutter and she turned to see the shutters of her window had blown open. Perched on the sill looking at her was the Starless Blackbird of the Dreamcaster.

It brought her dream on its wings.

* * *

**Chapter 17: Secret**

* * *

Kahlan was not in her chambers when Richard went to walk her to breakfast. Nor was she already in the eating hall.

It was Zedd who found her, deep in the library of Aydindril, looking through faded books of prophecy and dreams.

"Kahlan, child, what are you doing?"

Frantic, face white, Kahlan looked up, eyes darting around the labyrinth of shelves.

"Be sure we can't be overheard."

Zedd closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and then exhaling as he waved a hand. His spell made the air around them thicken and change, growing heavy. Their voices would not travel beyond the invisible shell.

Kahlan told Zedd of her dream in a rush, growing paler and paler with every word.

"Every time I closed my eyes, it was there, waiting for me. Sometimes the rose strangled the tree, other times the sapling. But always, both of them die." She looked down at the book she held, her grip on the pages so tight her knuckles turned white.

"Zedd, what do you think it means?"

"It's a warning," the old wizard replied, his brows bunched together in thought. "But of what? Kahlan, the Dreamcaster chose images that would speak to you. What do you think it means?"

Even her lips white now, eyes bloodshot and dry, Kahlan said quietly, her voice sounding small and far away, "I think that I am to have a son." She lifted her head, "And I am to let him live."

Zedd recoiled in shock, eyes wide. Kahlan was faster, desperately grabbing at his hands. "But I'm not sure, Zedd. I'm not sure. That's why I'm here, trying to find any mentions of the Son of Blood."

Zedd stared for a long time.

"Please. Help me."

Slowly and without saying a word, Zedd lowered himself into a chair and pulled a book over, muttering to himself, " … _betray the Son of Blood, the world will fall_ …"

"Zedd?"

  
"Yes, Kahlan?"

"Don't tell them. Not until we know what it means. Don't tell Richard."

Wondering when he had become the guardian of heavy secrets, Zedd nodded.

His thoughts were with Hali.

**-l-**

Mord'Sith Emryn led her quad among the craggy passes of the mountains surrounding D'Hara. The Sisterhood had scattered teams over the four corners of the land to find their Lord and First Mistress and see them safely back to the People's Palace.

Emryn doubted that her quad would be the ones to find their master, barren as the land was. Lord Rahl would surely have taken a more direct route to D'Hara.

Something flashed in the corner of her eye and she halted, hand going to her Agiel. Her Sisters followed her lead, doing the same.

There was a rustling all around them, as if they were surrounded.

But they could see nothing.

Suddenly there was a howl and a blur as something knocked Emryn on her back. Grey forms blurred into being all around them, but Emryn did not notice.

She only had time to drive her Agiel into the monster's side, her mouth opened in a scream as powerful jaws closed over her face.

* * *

**Chapter 18: Chance**

* * *

Darken and Cara spiraled high above the People's Palace, looking for a place to land that would not gain them immediate attention. Darken was as yet unsure of his welcome in his ancestral home. It wouldn't do to return, only to be stabbed in the back by an ambitious general.

What they had seen while flying over D'Hara was disheartening. It was as war torn and divided as the rest of the land. The only advantage was that the people would be hard pressed to organize a force to oppose him before he had a firm grasp on the throne.

The thought pleased him.

And it didn't.

There was an unusual amount of activity surrounding the Mord'Sith temple on the palace grounds. Darken screamed, alerting Cara to follow him, then banked his wings, finding a perch among the stonework of the temple tower.

Red-uniformed women came and went through the temple door, the travel gear and bows they carried conspicuous.

There was a clatter as a young Mord'Sith came hurrying from a palace archway, quickly crossing the courtyard to the temple, her braid swinging. There was an open journey book in her hands.

With his powerful hawk's vision, Darken was able to make out a few words written in blood on the page.

_No sign of our Lord… doubling back… failed to meet… no survivors._

Assessing the risk, Darken made a decision.

It would be helpful to know why they hunted for him, of course. He could attempt a listening spell, but he feared he would lose control of the magic that held him and Cara in hawk shape.

But they were Mord'Sith. They were conditioned from childhood to love, fear, and protect him.

It would be a gamble to reveal himself in their midst, but he felt the odds were in his favor.

Screaming a hawk cry to draw their attention, Darken plummeted to the center of the courtyard, Cara a half second behind him.

He released their hawk shapes at the last moment, both of them landing heavily on their feet, knees bent.

There was a second of complete silence.

**-l-**

"Senna, get out of the road!" Arram[i] shouted to his daughter. Wagons passed back and forth through the busy market square, horses between them. Darting between the dangerous press of travelers, his daughter giggled, running back to him.

More worried than angry, Arram scooped her up, returning to his bookshop. "The next time I tell you to stay in the shop, you _will_ stay in the shop, or the Fenrisulfr will get you!"

Senna squealed and wriggled to get down. He let her go, keeping watch as she went to play with the books too damaged to sell.

"You shouldn't scare her with that tale. She'll have nightmares," Ema[ii], Arram's wife, said as she came in from the back room.

  
A red scar curved from the outside edge of her eyebrow to her jawbone. The healers said it would become less noticeable with time. They had moved to the big city after Ema had been assaulted in the shop where she worked in their old village.

  
She still would not identify her attacker with so much as a description.

Arram smiled at her. "The Fenrisulfr are just a tale the Brotherhood of the Gods tells us to illustrate a point. Everyone knows there's no such thing as enormous wolves that hunt blasphemers."

"Best not let Brother Jarl hear you talk like that. He's summoned me to do a dress fitting for Freya Kate."

  
"The so called Virgin Mother? Her that gave birth to the beasties?"

"Don't make fun of the girl. She's a simple thing."

"Well, I suppose Brother Jarl feeds and clothes her. That's more n' the poorhouse could do were she allowed to wander."

Ema didn't answer, instead gathering her measuring cord, needles, thread, and other assorted materials into a basket.

"Look at you, Madam Binder, doin' the work you used to do for that old tailor and getting' paid proper for it."

She smiled small and tight, mindful of her scarred face.

**-l-**

Richard sat in on the afternoon judgments, watching as Kahlan gazed into the eyes of the people before her and read the lies written there.

She was beautiful and wise.

And this was the only time he saw her.

At first he had thought it was simply getting used to a new routine. Kahlan had a great responsibility to the people of the Midlands. He understood that. He respected it.

But he had not been alone with her, or even able to speak more than a few words to her in days.  
She was avoiding him. He was sure of it.

But why?

Dennee walked quietly and discreetly down the center aisle, leaving the judgment hall. Coming to a decision, Richard followed her.

Maybe she knew why Kahlan wouldn't so much as look at him.

**-l-**

Jennsen sat in the library with Renn, bouncing Dennee's adopted son on her knee. She had taken over as their nanny upon their arrival at Aydindril. She liked to be useful, and she was good with children.

The Listener boy was a particular delight. She could tell that sweetness lay close to his bones. He would grow into a fine man.

Renn stared at her, his inability to hear her thoughts causing him to pout. She was a novel experience to him.

  
Another reason Jennsen was well suited to being his caregiver.

She smiled at him, and then made a stern face to tell him to get back to his studies. He stuck his tongue out at her, but complied, looking down at the enormous book open on the table.

There was a soft scraping sound from the corner of their alcove.

Jennsen looked over at Haden, who sat bent over something.

Hoisting Dennee's toddler onto her hip, Jennsen went over to see what it was the Mord'Sith was doing.

  
Hearing her approach, Haden looked up.

Jennsen looked very pretty and…right holding a child on her hip.

If you liked that sort of thing.

"What are you doing?"

Staring blankly at some bookshelves to the side, Haden answered, "The wizard is in here. I got bored." She opened her hands to reveal a knife and a surprisingly well-done woodcarving.

It was a sweet little bird, its beak and legs tiny and delicate, intricate cuts suggesting a pattern of feathers.

"Oh," Jennsen exclaimed, her bright blue eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushing rosily.

"All Mord'Sith learn skills to please Lord Rahl," Haden said a trifle defensively.

Slowly, as if she expected it to break, Jennsen reached out a finger to touch the carving.

"Why a bird?"

Gazing upon Jennsen, Haden did not offer an explanation.

Suddenly, she thrust the thing into the redhead's free hand, saying, "You can have it."

She stalked away before Jennsen could give a proper thank-you.

* * *

**Chapter 19: Shadow**

* * *

"Dennee," Richard called, walking quickly to catch up with the Confessor.

She stopped and waited for him, a puzzled if somewhat guilty look on her face.

"Dennee," Richard said again as reached her. "I know we don't know each other very well, but I care for your sister very much."

"I know, Seeker," Dennee smiled. "It's as plain as the look on your face every time she enters the room."

"Entering the room…" Richard muttered. "Dennee, has Kahlan said anything to you at all about…me? Is there a reason she would be avoiding me?"

Dennee's smile faded. "The Mother Confessor is very busy."

She began striding down the hall once more.

Face settling into a picture of grim determination, Richard kept pace with her. "It's more than that. She's avoiding me. I want to know why."

They arrived at a door. Dennee reached out to open it, but Richard got there first, placing his hand against the wood. He leaned, placing his weight on the door.

Angry at being caught, Dennee looked up at him, an indignant huff escaping her lips before she could stop it.

"You never take the easy way."

Richard smiled. "No."

It didn't reach his eyes.

"Why is Kahlan avoiding me?"

Dennee studied the floor, her face clouded with troubling thoughts. Finally she raised clear eyes to his.

  
Confessor's eyes.

Richard suppressed a shiver. Somehow Dennee unnerved him in a way Kahlan never could.

"I spoke to my sister upon your arrival. Of her duties as the Mother Confessor."

"And?"

The door creaked as Richard shifted his weight.

"One of those duties is to take a mate. I suggested you."

She pushed past him, pulling the door open.

"She disagreed."

With that, she was gone to do whatever it was Confessors did in Aydindril.

Richard didn't notice.

**-l-**

Darken studied the company of Mord'Sith that surrounded him. Cara's hands rested casually on her weapons. Darken kept his hands forcibly relaxed and at his sides.

As he had once explained to his brother, when dealing with the Mord'Sith it was best to appear absolutely assured of your right to rule them, completely confident that they would do as bid.

Even if you did not entirely feel it.

Even if you were surrounded and only wearing one boot.

The moment was sharp, balanced on a knifepoint.

And then it was over.

One by one, the Mord'Sith fell to their knees, fists over their hearts.

Cara began the motion, but Darken stopped her.

He could not fully articulate why, but he no longer felt that her place was bowing with his other subjects.

  
He kept her standing at his side.

A hundred voices, maybe more, recited the devotional in chorus, a harmony that fed his bond to the Mord'Sith and the others sworn to him.

His Agiel vibrated against his side.

"My lord," a Mord'Sith appeared in the temple entrance, "we heard of your return. We have been searching for you."

"And how," Darken asked, eyes appearing almost black in the light, "did you hear of my plans?"

"Mord'Sith Haden informed one of the Sisterhood who has been placed in Aydindril for years, my lord. Mord'Sith Melena writes that Mord'Sith Haden travels with the Seeker and his party. She told us you were alive. We began the search that very night."

"Commendable, Mistress…?"

"Bronwyn, my lord."

"Mistress Bronwyn, you will prepare a report for myself and the First Mistress, detailing all that you feel we must know."

Darken turned on his heel, walking toward the palace and his old rooms.

Smirking, Cara followed, though not before ordering a hot meal brought for herself and Darken, saying, "Be thorough," to Bronwyn in parting.

She swaggered through the halls, two steps behind Lord Rahl.

She was surprised when he made a noise she recognized as frustrated and impatient, stopping to glare at her.

"I have instructed you to walk at my side."

Cara could not contain the grin that split her face.

He got upset over such trivial things. Surely he realized that no matter where she walked, she was the same strong woman. Allowing him to go first was a combination of habit and respect, nothing more.

For his part, Darken was haunted by the image of his mother shadowing his father through these very halls.

He would not become him.

He would not allow Cara to become her.

He would not allow her to leave him.

* * *

**Chapter 20: Heat**

* * *

"Richard!" Kahlan said in surprise as she rounded the corner. He sat leaning against the door to her suite.

He looked up at her and she could tell something was horribly wrong. He hadn't shaved, he looked as if he hadn't slept.

He knew.

"When were you going to tell me?"

"I wanted to be sure, to find out who it really is before I told you."

Richard stood, pushing against the door to maneuver himself upwards. "So you were going to find him before you even talked about it with me? Isn't this my decision too?"

Taken aback and a little confused, Kahlan answered, "Well, I suppose it is if I'm right, but I'm not sure I'm right about what it means, Richard. That's why I hadn't told you yet."

Blinking, Richard asked, "What do you mean, 'right' ?"

Brow furrowed, Kahlan took Richard's hands. "I'm not sure if the warning the Dreamcaster is sending me really means that I am to have a son."

Eyes wide as he felt himself flung into a future he swore would never be, Richard exclaimed, "What?"

Her insides sinking as she realized what was really happening, Kahlan asked quietly, voice strangled, "What are you talking about?"

"Dennee told me you were going to take a mate. And you didn't want it to be me."

There was an awkward silence.

Zedd stomped around the corner, an enormous tome open in his long fingered hands.

"Kahlan, I've found a reference to…" he trailed off, then raised a brow. "Am I interrupting?"

**-l-**

There was a knock on the door.

"Enter," Darken called lazily from his seat by the window.

He was dressed in one of his old sets of robes, the fabric strangely soft against his skin after all the time spent wearing a leather tunic.

Much of the palace was in shambles, but his rooms remained untouched. With his death they had sealed themselves against any not of Rahl blood, waiting for the next lord to claim them.

And he had.

It was Mistress Bronwyn, followed by an older woman in the uniform of a servant. The servant cleared away the silver tray and dishes that had been brought earlier.

Darken had also forgotten what a good meal tasted like. He did not lavish his table with delicacies like some nobles, but his meat was of good cut, his fruit and vegetables kept fresh with magic.

It was a great change from trail rations.

And roast rabbit.

If he never had to eat roast rabbit again, he would be a happy man.

As the servant woman left, Mistress Bronwyn came forward bearing a journey book and a scroll.

"The reports you asked for, my lord. And the journey book we have been using to coordinate the search for you."

Eying her offerings, Darken felt an old anger stir his blood.

How he hated incompetence.

"Why is there not a copy for your First Mistress?"

"My lord?"

Bronwyn did not take a step back, knowing it would invite punishment.

It did not mean she did not want to.

Mistress Cara herself lounged on their master's large four-poster bed, unashamedly naked. It was odd that the First Mistress was still abed at this hour, but Bronwyn would prefer the cool sheets to her hot leathers were she in the same position.

It was so hot.

"Were you deliberate in disrespecting Mistress Cara…or are you stupid?" Darken asked, voice as silky as a spider's web.

  
And as potentially dangerous.

"My lord," Cara spoke before Bronwyn was able to formulate a reply. "It is true that she is incompetent, but may I be the one to decide her punishment?"

Darken watched her. Bronwyn held her breath.

Lord Rahl inclined his head, his hair shadowing his face.

Mistress Cara smiled, a small upturning of her lips.

Bronwyn was not sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Mistress Cara had a reputation.

Darken kept his eyes on Cara as Bronwyn set the documents on his desk and left the room.

His robes were not as comfortable as he remembered.

**-l-**

"Renn, where are you? This isn't funny!" Jennsen called, huffing a little as she jostled Edmund, Dennee's son, higher on her hip.

Renn giggled to himself, having a little harmless fun. He'd come out before she got really mad, and then he'd smile at her and she'd smile back and everything would be okay.

Renn hadn't been with Jennsen very long, but with their hair both being red, he liked to pretend. She could be his sister.

Or his mother.

Dennee was nice, and the Sisters of the Light had been nice, even if they made him wear a Rada Han, but no one had made him feel this special since Richard and Kahlan.

Richard and Kahlan had sent him away. He knew their thoughts, knew it was because it was dangerous.

But they had still sent him away.

He didn't think Jennsen would. But he couldn't read her.

It made it more fun to play hide and seek, because he couldn't tell when she was coming.

Creeping silently, pretending he was the Seeker, Renn slipped into the library.

She'd never think to look for him in there because he was hiding to avoid his lessons.

At least, he thought she wouldn't think to look for him in the library.

With Jennsen, he was never sure.

And he liked it.

Hearing voices, Renn stopped, peering through a space in the shelves. He'd never been in this part of the library before. A lot of the books were dusty.

" _The Son of Blood will rise with the howling of wolves and the flight of birds_ ," Richard's voice floated through the stacks. He sounded like he was reading.

" _Doomed love will give him birth, sacrifice his cradle_ ," continued Kahlan.

" _Loved and hated in equal measure_ ," finished Zedd, " _the world rests in his hands_."

"Doomed love…" Kahlan said again, voice small.

Renn could hear her pain.

A leather-clad hand clapped him on the shoulder and he jumped. It was Mord'Sith Haden. The anguished thoughts of his friends had been too loud for Renn to sense her coming.

Peering through the gap in the bookshelf herself, Haden whispered, "You are worrying Jennsen."

Somehow her voice lost none of its ferocity despite the low volume.

It was only hearing her thoughts that kept Renn from fearing her.

She couldn't be that scary if she was thinking about how nice Jennsen looked with her hair sticking to her face in the summer heat, and how sweet it was that she didn't notice baby Edmund had a fistful of her hair in his mouth.

"You should tell her, you know," Renn whispered back.

Haden frowned, her thoughts turning ugly.

But Renn didn't think she really meant it.

After all, Richard had once thought about killing him.

"I know you're scared," he continued blithely, "and I can't say for sure because I can't hear Jennsen. But I think she would like it."

"Like what, boy?"

"Your nickname for her."

Haden gripped him by the back of the neck, frog-marching him to the corridor where Jennsen still searched.

As they left the library, Renn caught the tail end of a thought about reporting something to Lord Rahl, and the image of a house in an alley.

But then Jennsen came into sight and Renn was occupied with being scolded and Haden's thoughts were filled with bird song.

* * *

 

  
**Chapter 21: Guidance**   


  


* * *

Darken read through backlogs of reports. The palace had been looted, most of his liquid assets were gone. His soldiers deserted, running amuck through the land he had drafted them to protect.

These were things he had expected. They were not insurmountable problems. There were several caches of treasure spread among the Mord'Sith temples. He would send parties of heavily armed Sisters to retrieve the gold.

More disturbing were the reports of quads of Mord'Sith disappearing in the mountains on the border. Three had stopped reporting in and no trace of them found. Two others had been found by other quads, meat gnawed from bones bleached in the sun.

The final missing group appeared to have been burned alive. All that was left to identify them were piles of blacked bone and ash among a few smoking scraps of leather. The concussive blast of their Agiels exploding in the heat had left the surrounding forest in splinters.

Twenty-four Mord'Sith dead in a very short span of time.

_An enormous wolf lunged, clutching his boot in powerful jaws._

Knocking a pile of books from his worktable, Darken spread out a map. Consulting his notes, he put stone markers in the places where his Mord'Sith had gone missing or been found dead.

It did not paint a pretty picture.

Too large an area to be a hunting ground for a single pack, or even two, no matter how enormous the beasts.

  
Too far apart to be protecting a single village.

Too specific to be coincidence.

Footsteps echoed against the stone floor. Darken recognized Cara's gait. She placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning into him as she studied the map.

The stone markers formed a crescent around D'Hara.

"Someone is directing them," Cara said.

"Yes," Darken replied, grinding the word out from betwixt his teeth.

"I will give the order for the Sisterhood to gather our resources. We will call in the soldiers who are still loyal, then capture the rest. They will face justice."

"Send Bronwyn," Darken ordered quietly and quickly.

"My lord," Cara retorted, "it will be done best if you send me."

Smiling a smile too full of cheer and goodwill to be genuine, Darken said amiably, "I know, Cara. But your place is here, at my side." An ominous shadow passed over his face, his eyes as blue and tumultuous as the sea. "Never forget it."

Tracing a finger over the bone amulet at her throat, Cara inclined her head.

Tension roiled beneath Darken's skin as he struggled to understand himself.

He broke out in a sweat, pain lancing through his head.

All the paper in the room burst into flames.

**-l-**

Zedd paced.

Kahlan grew more and more certain that her dream meant she was to have a son, and that the father and son's survival was somehow linked.

If one died, so did the other.

All of Zedd's teachings, all of the memories Richard had shared with him screamed out against letting a male Confessor live.

  
But the reference they had found in a book written by one of the Great Wizards of the First Era…

If Kahlan was right, then her son, the Son of Blood, was meant to save the world.

But if she was wrong, they may be unleashing the very evil the true Son of Blood would have to face.

Part of him thought that it was possible that Richard himself was the Son of Blood. After all, he was the son of two powerful bloodlines, and if things had gone differently, he would be a powerful wizard now.

And he had been born of a doomed love… If Panis had truly loved Zedd's daughter.

And given recent events, he would soon be loved and hated in equal measure.

But Zedd was not certain, and until he was, he was hesitant to lay yet another burden on the boy's shoulders.

That was the problem with being born to greatness.

Whether you wanted it or not, it was thrust upon you.

Casting his eyes heavenward, Zedd sent a plea for guidance.

**-l-**

Ema entered the large townhouse that served as housing for the Brotherhood of the Gods. An acolyte in robes smiled at her when she entered.

"Here to see Freya Kate for a dress fittin'," Ema said.

The acolyte recognized her and waived her through the entry hall, directing her to the room where the Brotherhood received guests.

Freya Kate was there, laughing prettily at something a young nobleman had just said to her, her white skin contrasting with her deep brown hair. She was clothed richly, though still as a priestess of the order.

She radiated purity and warm gentility, and it drew men like moths to a flame.

"Now, now, Kate," Brother Jarl bustled into the room, "you know better than to be leading young men on like that."

"Yes, Brother," she simpered in a husky whisper that was still easily heard. "I must stay pure for the glory of Tyrn, lest he strip his gift from me."

The young nobleman colored.

Ema barely kept herself from snorting. Poor sweet, simple Kate. Brother Jarl had her believing all sorts of nonsense.

The young nobleman left, but not before pledging his fortune to the Brotherhood.

* * *

**Chapter 22: Wishes**

* * *

Zedd dreamed. That in and of itself was not unusual.

What was unusual was that he was not directing it.

He found himself in a garden surrounding a familiar little hut, a stump he had once used as a seat a few feet away.

The door of the hut opened and a woman stepped out.

She was both familiar and unfamiliar. The creature that had stolen his heart, yet more.

And less.

Hair falling in a smooth curtain, clear brown eyes on his face, she walked to him, seeming to glide.

"Are you Hali or the Creator?"

**_Oh, Zeddicus. Still asking silly questions._ **

She smiled.

She held out her hand. He took it, the familiar sensation of his veins electrifying as the Healing Hands did their work going a long way to reassure him.

His heart thumped twice.

**_So worried, Zeddicus. So confused. Don't be, you will know all in time. I did well when I chose you to be one of my champions._ **

Shocked, Zedd pulled his hand away, eyebrows climbing into his hair. "Champion?"

**_Surely you do not think I gift some mortals with power simply to amuse myself?_ **

Zedd smiled in spite of himself. Same old Hali.

Yet not.

"Have you always been the Creator?"

She tilted her head to the side, a motion that Hali had made often in life.

**_I did not come to you to speak of my nature._ **

"Then why –"

**_You asked for guidance. I am here to give it._ **

She took both his hands, staring earnestly into his eyes. Zedd knew joy, and love.

And a deep, aching sorrow.

**_You will be given an opportunity soon to right a wrong. To guide a life. You must take it._ **

"But how will I know?"

She was gone.

When Zedd awoke, there were tears on his face.

He wished.

**-l-**

Under the cover of darkness, Haden crept through Aydindril's halls, on her way to see Melena.

Lord Rahl should know of the prophecy, and of Kahlan Amnell's interpretation of it. A male Confessor was too dangerous to gamble on in her opinion.

Thinking of it raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

He should also be told that Lord Rahl the Younger was content to be confessed, so long as it was his lady love who did the confessing.

What love could be so all encompassing that one would be willing to give up their soul, their free will?

Haden was bound to the House of Rahl. She was ruled by the House of Rahl.

But in the privacy of her own thoughts, she could think of the House and all its members as she liked.

That was a liberty she would not give up.

Not even for love.

As she passed the room where Jennsen slept, Haden gave into the urge to slide the door open and slip inside.

A crown of tangled red hair poked out from a nest of blankets. Jennsen slept curled in on herself, wrapped in a bundle.

Haden watched her sleep for a few moments and then left as quietly as she had come.

She had a mission to fulfill before the night was over.

She found herself wishing that Jennsen would take up the mantle of Lady Rahl.

Then Haden would be free to serve her.

It was a Mord'Sith's duty to love a Rahl.

* * *

**Chapter 23: Storm**

* * *

Darken sat in a room of the palace that had yet to be restored to order following the looting. After ordering the damaged furnishings removed, he selected a few tomes on magic and settled himself among the bare stone walls.

To practice.

Now the stone was blackened and cracked. He had discarded his robes after igniting one of his sleeves.

It was safe to say he had an affinity for fire.

And lightning.

The unfortunate thing was that the forces resisted his control when he summoned them.

He could work all of his old spells without any of the strain that had once characterized his magical efforts. He had to be careful of how much force he used.

He could shape shift into a hawk, but not a normal hawk. His candle-lighting spell summoned an inferno of flames. But he could not control the fire. It rampaged beyond his will. If he was not careful, his extinguishing spell made the air in the entire room unbreathable. Only with great concentration could he put his flames out without depriving himself of air.

  
He had not yet attempted any kind of transportation spell.

He feared where he would end up.

The lightning came when he began to pursue the exercises and spells in the books.

He grit his teeth in frustration, his temples pounding in time with his heart, sweat streaming from his skin –

And a bolt of pure blue streaked from his hand to arch between stone ceiling and stone floor, chips of rock flying as the stone cracked and exploded with heat. Several shards flew into his bare chest, tiny lances of pain as the splinters embedded themselves in his skin.

Though they could not hear his cry of rage, all the palace's occupants were aware of Lord Rahl's dilemma.

  
The sky darkened in moments, nighttime overcoming day as thunder shook the land.

He was focused on his outrage and frustration, his need to understand his powers, his confusion over where they had come from and why. Why now?

If he had only been born with them, much despair could have been avoided.

His han responded to the focused whisperings of his mind, the mutterings of his desire.  
And called a storm.

**-l-**

Brother Jarl fell to the floor, eyelids flickering, his limbs flopping sickeningly as if he were a puppet whose strings had been cut.

"Brother!" Freya Kate exclaimed, moving forward to touch him.

Another priest of the Brotherhood held her back, saying, "No, silly woman! Tyrn is speaking to him!"

Kate quieted, and the Brother was pleased with her. It was disgraceful for a woman to hold such a high place in the Brotherhood, but she was the one chosen to bring life to the children of Tyrn and his brothers. It was only right and good that she be respected. After all, Tyrn and his brothers were served by the goddesses, who were respected for their services.

Kate watched Brother Jarl with intense concentration. He was the lynch pin that held her life together. Without him, she was nothing.

Tyrn spoke to Jarl, revealing things to him through visions. First the palace of the depraved House of Rahl, besieged by a storm. Then the tower of the soul stealers, where even now Kahlan Amnell sat on the devil's throne.

The Fenrisulfr stalked and killed the leather-clad women of D'Hara, those unnatural creatures who were so arrogant as to think themselves gods, worthy of the magic and power that only a god should hold.

A shadow fell on his face. Jarl looked up to see a massive bird of prey blocking out the sun.

The Fenrisulfr disappeared in the shadow, and suddenly all those blasphemous creatures of false magic emerged from the air, carried on the wings of the raptor.

Jarl understood what Tyrn was telling him.

When he was released from the vision, he would fetch the tools that contained the power of Tyrn and place them in the hands of Freya Kate, the pure vessel of Tyrn's will.

Tyrn had led Jarl to both Kate and the tools, showing him what to do to bring Tyrn's children into being.

  
The undesirables called the tools the Shakai'ah.[iii]

Jarl knew better. Tyrn had shown him where to find them, scattered in an abandoned tower.

They were the Gift of the Gods.

**-l-**

Cara gazed at the scorched door that marked the room where Darken had sequestered himself.

The more he learned of the status of the kingdom, the more unsettled he became…

The less he could control the fires.

But a message from Haden via Melena had appeared in the journey book.

He needed to know of the prophecy and what Kahlan thought it meant.

Cara fingered the metal collar that weighed heavy in her hand. How many times had she placed one around the neck of one of her pets?

This was different.

But it shouldn't be.

Steeling herself, the Rada Han open and ready, Cara pushed the door open.

Darken whirled, fire dancing on his skin, then racing toward her. His eyes held horror.

Cara deflected the blast, one hand held up, forcing it up and away from the both of them. Darken closed his eyes, his lips moving silently as he struggled to contain the destructive power of his han.

Cara snapped the Rada Han closed around his neck.

Shocked, he gripped her wrists hard enough to bruise, his eyes literally filled with lightning now unable to go farther than his skin.

Appearing unperturbed though she quailed on the inside for a reason she could not fully explain, Cara rested her forehead against his.

He trembled, soaked in sweat, his face waxy.

If he did not get control of his han soon, it would consume him from within.

Cara found herself pulled into a tight, desperate embrace, her face pushed into Darken's neck. There was rage in the scrape of his nails, the strength of his arms, the bruises she would bear for daring to collar Lord Rahl.

There was relief in the way his lips rested in her hair, though his jaw was clenched. There was pain in the way he whispered her name.

And something else.

He smelled of brimstone.

After a time his shaking grew less pronounced, his grasp less painful.

"There is news from Aydindril."

"Can it wait until morning?"

Even his voice sounded burned.

Looking into haunted eyes smoldering with more than fire, Cara said, "Yes."

* * *

**Chapter 24: Trapped**

* * *

Darken awoke alone in his suite.

It was not an unusual state of affairs.

Or it hadn't been.

Before.

He had never deprived himself of pleasurable company, but he had always preferred to sleep alone.

That was no longer the case. He had spent so long sleeping with either Hali or Cara breathing quietly at his side. Even if they did not touch him, their presence could be felt, soothing away his nightmares.

He no longer had nightmares sent by the Keeper.

But he found he still needed soothing.

Cara entered his bedchamber at that moment. Behind her came a servant carrying breakfast on a tray. Cara herself held a journey book and scrolls.

Darken sat up, then wished he hadn't, a steady pounding beginning to hammer through his skull.

He had not felt this bad since the day after Egremont had given him a case of his favorite wine.

It had been his birthday. They had drunk it together, Egremont telling stories of his ancestors and how Darken was sure to surpass them.

An altogether different pounding started in his chest.

Darken was miserable.

"Leave us," Cara barked at the servant, seeing the difficulty Darken had in hiding his pain.

When the woman had gone Darken lowered himself back to the bed, too proud to flop backwards as he wished to.

"The key to the Rada Han?" he heard himself ask.

Cara's boots made soft, muffled taps against the rich carpet spread over the stone floor of his bed chamber. She pressed the key into his hand. It was blessedly cool.

He ought to be outraged that she kept if from him.

But he couldn't summon the energy.

And truly, it was better in her possession than lying about his suite where anyone could take it.

"You need a teacher," Cara said bluntly.

He did not answer, the pounding in his head too loud.

After a moment of silence there was the clinking of glass and metal. Something cold was pressed against his forehead.

  
Opening his eyes, he found it was a goblet of fruit juice. He took possession of it, alternating pressing it against his overheated skin and taking slow sips.

It sat heavy in his gut.

"I am going to call back the soldiers and announce your return. I will send a company of Mord'Sith to retrieve the gold hidden at our temples. That will pay our men. Then, I am sending a messenger to Aydindril."

Wetting his lips with his recently moistened tongue, Darken said, "My, Cara. Such plans. You seem to have thought of everything. Were you going to seek my approval for any of this?"

"I just did," she smiled a wicked smile.

Darken wearily returned her grin, a pale shadow of himself.

"Is there any more news of the missing Mord'Sith and the wolf creatures in the mountains?"

"None. It's as if they were never there."

Feeling better after sipping his juice, Darken pulled himself up to rest against the headboard. "The people will revolt initially. Issue a proclamation telling them of the dangers we face. Have someone repair the bell tower. Those who come to the morning devotional will be protected, those who do not…"

He let the sentence hang.

Cara saluted, fist over her heart, "My lord."

She turned to go.

"Cara."

"My lord?"

"Why a messenger to Aydindril?"

She pursed her lips, then said very carefully, "To get Zedd and Richard to help us. Zedd can teach you to control your powers. The people trust Richard. They will not fight us so hard with him at your side."

"And you believe they will come?"

"They will come."

Wincing at another lance of pain in his head, Darken asked, "Why?"

"Because I asked them to."

"I do not need their help," Darken said somewhat sulkily, pressing his juice cup against his temple to stave off the pain.

  
Cara treated him with one of her ironic looks.

"As you say, my lord."

She would send the message anyway. She paused, gauging his mood and health, then decided to tell him of the prophecy of the Son of Blood.

He would only be angrier later if it was kept from him.

"And these dreams are sent to the Mother Confessor by a high priestess of the desert nomads?"

He was not shocked by the reports of Kahlan wishing to keep him from the throne. Not pleased, certainly, but not shocked.

"The Dreamcaster."

"And it means?"

"That is a matter of debate. Kahlan believes it tells of the coming of a male Confessor that she is to bear."

Cutting his eyes to her sharply, then regretting it as pain them water, Darken prompted, "But you disagree."

"It is a vague prophecy."

She rubbed her bone amulet with the edge of one finger.

Darken missed the motion, overcome by a sudden headache driving a wedge through his mind.

He fell back against the headboard, clutching at his temples.

"My lord!" she returned to his bedside, hands outstretched to help him.

"Do not call me that!" Darken snapped, beginning to sweat as his han rose.

"My lord?"

Unbidden came his mother's voice, locked away in his head from years gone by. She had warbled _my lord_ as she tripped after his father, the painted, fragile doll.

The broken doll.

He began to tremble, electricity burning his veins.

"You will call me by name when we are alone," Darken ordered, voice as black as his mood.

Suddenly Cara was there, holding his trembling hands, a look of such tenderness on her face that for a moment his fevered mind thought she was Hali.

"Rest, Darken. Please, let me take care of you."

She coddled him like a babe, and Darken found himself wondering what kind of mother she would have been to their son.

  
She departed to issue her orders, running the kingdom that was his birthright and his doom as he lay in bed shaking like a newborn colt.

"I am sending a messenger to Aydindril," she said in parting, showing no fear of directly defying him. "You need Zedd. Or you will die."

He was pleased that she did not fear him.

And outraged she would defy him.

And indifferent to being a lord.

And proud of his heritage.

And ashamed of his weakness.

He was trapped, tangled in the red cloak worn by all the lords of his House.

The heat from his body had warmed his juice cup to the point of uselessness.

He threw it.

It thudded to the floor, his throwing arm as weak as the rest of him.

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, denied even the pleasure of breaking glass.

* * *

**Chapter 25: Rabble**

* * *

_Kahlan._

_Should the Mother Confessor betray the Son of Blood, the world will fall, all magic erased._

Kahlan sat up with a start as a desperate thundering sounded against her door. A glance at the window revealed the pearlescent light of false dawn.

Not bothering to pull on her robe, Kahlan stumbled from her bed to pull the heavy door open.

It was Dennee, dressed haphazardly in Confessor white, her laces crooked and ill adjusted so that her dress hung askew on her frame.

"Hurry, Kahlan, there are villagers at the gate, demanding to see you and the Seeker. They look as if they've been chased by gars the whole way."

Dennee did not wait for a response, but dashed off down the hall. Kahlan could hear her banging on another door farther down the hall, presumably waking the others.

Kahlan shut her door, her fingers clumsy as she changed into her own Confessor robes, disdaining to brush her hair or wash her face in the rush.

As soon as they entered the main hall, a group of villagers all began to babble at once, their emotions ranging from hatred to abject terror. They all bore signs of having traveled quickly, road dust marking their clothes as dark circles marked their eyes.

"Please, one at a time!" Kahlan pitched her voice to be heard over the rabble.

"They're everywhere!"

"Coming in the towns to hang proclamations in the square!"

"I had to hide my daughters."

"Everyone, please!" Richard shouted, his hand on the hilt of the Sword of Truth.

They heeded the Seeker where they had ignored the Mother Confessor.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, Richard pointed to a man in the center of the crowd. "What's this all about?"

Arram stepped forward, shadows under his eyes and a cut along his hairline.

"I traveled all day and night to get here, Seeker. They came to the city, four of 'em and hung a notice in the square. We used to be under D'Haran control, see, until you killed 'em."

Richard refused to remember the sight of his brother being consumed by green fire as the veil between worlds was sundered.

"Who came?"

Swallowing, Arram said, "The Mord'Sith. They put up signs sayin' Darken Rahl was back and taking over his old lands. Said a load of nonsense about dangers without the kingdom and how those who started attending the devotionals again would be protected, but those as don't he'll leave to rot."

None of the people questioned how and when Darken Rahl had returned to life. While the veil was torn death had become a fleeting state.

The outcry broke out again as Richard and Kahlan shared a look.

"You have to do something, Seeker!"

"Kill 'em!"

"Kill the tyrant!"

"Please, what if my daughter is taken for the Sisterhood?"

Standing to the side and slightly behind them, Haden observed Lord Rahl the Younger, attempting to read his feelings on the village man's condemnation.

The heavy door of the main hall burst open to reveal a blond Mord'Sith, beautiful and deadly as a panther.

  
The crowd hushed, faces turned ugly.

Haden nodded to Mord'Sith Melena, thinking she looked much better appropriately attired in her leathers than she had disguised as a village woman.

Casting her gaze about the room, daring any to challenge her, Melena swaggered forward, one hand on her Agiel, the other clasped around a tightly rolled scroll.

Reaching the place where those who came to be judged normally stood, Melena offered a quick bow, then said, "Lord Rahl sends his greetings to the Mother Confessor and his brother, Richard Rahl, called by some the Seeker."

The crowd of villagers made noises of disgust and disbelief upon hearing their precious Seeker referred to as a Rahl, one man muttering, "So he takes the place of the monster he murdered."

Richard acted as if he didn't hear, his focus on the Mord'Sith standing before him.

"Lord Rahl also greets the First Wizard, Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander and his sister, Jennsen Rahl. He sends private messages for each of you."

Richard started forward to take the scroll the Mord'Sith held out at the same time as Kahlan. He let his hand drop, coming to an awkward stand still.

He was used to being the leader, it made it difficult to remember that it was Kahlan who ruled Aydindril.

Melena hesitated. "I am instructed to see to it that each message reaches the proper recipient."

Kahlan tore the scroll from the Mord'Sith's hands. Melena let it go, her face neutrally pleasant.

It made her seem all the more sinister to the villagers.

Kahlan stalked to her private audience hall without saying a word. The others followed her just as silently, leaving the two Mord'Sith alone with the crowd.

Haden drifted over to lean against the door to the private chamber, the better to protect the wizard and Lord Rahl the Younger.

  
Melena joined her.

"Lord Rahl did not really summon his sister."

Eyebrow raised, Melena answered, "Not initially, no. But it was suggested to Mistress Cara that the pristinely ungifted one could be useful in aiding in our Lord's current… dilemma."

"Dilemma?"

"Much has happened in a short time. You will be told all, _Mistress_ Haden."

Face hardening, suspecting one of Melena's mocking jokes, Haden did not answer.

Lips quirked upward, Melena pulled a small scrap of paper from her corset, the crest of the House of Rahl visible through the back where the light hit the page.

Haden took it from her, examining it.

It was true. She was promoted to the rank of Mistress.

"Mistress Cara was very appreciative of the intelligence you provided, as well as your suggestions about Jennsen Rahl being able to help our master."

Turning her gaze on Melena, Haden frowned.

Smirking once more, Melena said, "You can thank me later. You are ordered back to the People's Palace along with the wizard. Now you won't have to be without your darling pet."

Melena's head snapped to the side before she could even register the blow.

"You will not speak of the Lady Rahl that way."

Lowering her eyes, though inside she glowed with triumph, Melena answered, "Yes, Mistress."

The crowd watched them warily, as rats would watch a cat.

They would kill the Mord'Sith if they could.

But they did not dare try.

Dressed as a villager, hidden among the crowd, Brother Heidrun clenched his fists. Brother Jarl's plans to get the undesirables to fight and kill each other may be derailed if the Mord'Sith was truly on a mission of diplomacy.

* * *

**Chapter 26: Gods**

* * *

All of their pages bore the same message written in blood – obviously torn from a journey book.

It explained the presence of a mysterious enemy lurking on the border of D'Hara.

And the fact that Darken Rahl had found himself the possessor of powerful han.

Cara had added postscripts to each message.

Zedd, Richard, and Jennsen's were all the same:

_Please come. We need your help_   
_Cara._

Kahlan's was different.

_I will protect Richard with my life._   
_Your friend._

"She can't be serious."

"Why not?" Richard snapped, his page creasing as his grip on it tightened.

"Richard, think about this. He is already acting just as he did before – ordering the villagers to submit or be destroyed, sending Mord'Sith into their villages as if he has the right."

"That's not what he said," Jennsen piped up. "He said he would protect those who swore to him. He never said anything about hurting the ones that didn't."

Kahlan turned to face the redhead, full of incredulity. "It amounts to the same thing."

Chastised, Jennsen fell silent.

She knew her opinion on these things wasn't valued very highly, but still… Though she knew it was a deception, she remembered how kind Rahl had been to her, how gently he had rocked her as she cried.

Did he think he was doing bad things?

_Like every villain, he believes himself a hero._

"And how did he get this powerful magic? And how dangerous will he be once trained in its use? Richard."

Richard scrubbed at his eyes, wishing that for once something in his life could be easy.

"He's changed. We can't just let him die."

"And what if he hasn't?" Kahlan asked gently, hating the fact that she had to play the villain. "Richard, what if he becomes more ruthless than ever before? What if he is consumed by this great power?"

Faced red, feeling torn, Richard snapped, "And what if he isn't?"

Stepping forward to force Richard to face her, voice dropping harshly, Kahlan gritted out, "That's what you said about the Keeper when he appeared as a child."

Richard looked as if he had been struck, staggering back from Kahlan, eyes suspiciously bright.

The was a strained, tension-filled silence before Kahlan spoke again, her own voice thick. "Richard, I –"

"Don't," he interrupted. "You're right. I didn't listen then, and the world was almost destroyed," he laughed, a sound like broken glass.

Kahlan reached out to him, asking for forgiveness without words. He returned the gesture, their bodies melding together.

"I'm still going. He's my brother, and we've seen that D'Hara needs a ruler." Richard looked down into Kahlan's face, his wide eyes filling her vision. "He _will_ do it differently if he gets this second chance. So he should get a second chance."

Second chances. They were something that Richard believed in whole-heartedly.

Something a Confessor was not capable of allowing to one they deemed guilty.

Staring into Richard's eyes, Kahlan read only belief, love, and honor there.

For his sake, she would try.

The air in the room grew heavy. Even Jennsen felt it, the presence of something too great for the mortal world pressing down on them.

"I will go and teach him. An untutored han is more dangerous than a trained one, no matter the wielder," Zedd's voice cut through the thick aura that encased them.

He felt a brush of invisible lips on his cheek, a familiar braying laugh in his ear.

Jennsen thought of Renn and Edmund. They needed her.

She thought of the man who had been near tears as he said his mother was not strong enough to protect him.

  
"I want to know both of my brothers," she said.

They all turned startled eyes on her, as if they had forgotten she was in the room.

The heavy presence lifted.

**-l-**

Freya Kate ran her fingers over the smooth, sharp surface of the Shakai'ah, the Gift of the Gods.

She was the only being in all the world who could use them as Tyrn intended.

A woman, a witch woman, was dragged into the room and strapped down next to the body of a horse. Kate had sacrificed it when the moon was high and then allowed it rot in the sun, its carcass stinking and infested with insects.

It was alive with death.

She shoved one of the needle-like tools into the woman's flesh, ignoring the screams as she chanted an incantation under her breath.

The next needle went into the body of the horse, Kate's chanting rising in a crescendo as she built upon and utilized the power of the Shakai'ah.

She did not know where she had learned the chant. It seemed she simply had always known it.

A scream, two screams, inhuman screams.

Reality bent, vision blurred, senses inverted in a confusing swirl of nothingness.

And then it was over, and a new creature, a new creation, lay on the slab, blood dripping down the slab to run into the surrounding grate.

The grate was there for that specific purpose.

From his position where he watched in the shadows, Jarl gazed with wonder.

Another child of the gods brought to the earthly plane before his very eyes.

"Praise be to Tyrn."

* * *

**Chapter 27: Understanding**

* * *

Cara stood in the chamber that Lord Rahl had always used for strategizing, forming his war plans, usually with General Egremont and sometimes Cara.

Egremont was dead, and Cara could not regret it because it meant that Richard was still alive.

But it left her to fill the void, with Darken in the throes of han sickness and no other trustworthy commanders present.

  
This was why she had promoted Haden. Haden had proved her loyalty and competence.

And Cara needed help.

She closed her eyes, taken by a dizzy spell, gripping the edge of the table until it passed. She was overworked.

  
She refused to consider another explanation.

Reports and maps lined the many tables Cara had ordered brought to the room, a larger map hanging on the wall. The journey book she was using to coordinate all of their efforts sat on a pedestal made for the purpose.

Shaking off the dizziness, Cara began to sift through a pile of papers once more. She had continued to work on the map that Darken had started, placing colored markers wherever there had been a sighting of those wolf creatures, or their warriors had disappeared.

Since sending messengers to the villages that had once been under their control and calling back the soldiers, reports had also begun to come of those that refused.

Along with mentions of a Brotherhood of monks that had yet to be identified.

When Cara began to mark those villages, a disturbing pattern emerged.

Thoughtfully, she worked through the afternoon, going back through all of her reports to find mentions of the Brotherhood.

  
Blue stones for the wolves, red stones for the missing or dead warriors, white stones for the rebellious villages, yellow stones for the monks.

Staring at the confusing pattern of colors, Cara stopped as an idea occurred to her.

"Mistress."

Cara started, her hands jerking as she turned to glare at the intruder.

It was a subordinate Mord'Sith, a bit young to be in full leathers.

They had had to step up the training to replace those that were lost.

"What is it?"

"Lord Rahl wishes for your presence."

Glancing back at the map, Cara realized it would take her many long hours to implement her new understanding.

"Tell him I will attend him shortly," her stomach grumbled and she realized she had not eaten since breakfast. "And have dinner brought to us."

She was famished.

**-l-**

Kahlan had changed into her purple traveling dress and was folding her Confessor robes when Dennee burst into the room.

"You're leaving again?"

"I have a duty to help Richard."

Livid, Dennee protested, "You have a duty to your people. To _me._ You are the Mother Confessor. You belong in Aydindril!"

With quiet steel, Kahlan turned hard eyes on her sister. "I am also the Seeker's Confessor. He needs me."

"You aren't following the Seeker. You're following Richard Rahl."

Neither of them spoke as Kahlan continued to pack, Dennee going to gaze out of the window.

Kahlan was torn. Just as when she had been summoned to Aydindril in the past, she knew that her duty lay in these halls.

But Richard held her heart.

Always.

"There is the prophecy to consider," Kahlan said as she gave the contents of her pack a final look over. "If it is true, if my son is to save the world…then I have to be with Richard."

Dennee gave Kahlan a look, the look that said she knew her sister too well.

Kahlan was justifying leaving Aydindril and she knew it.

Because she would never take Richard as a mate so long as there was the chance that she would confess him inadvertently.

Prophecy or no prophecy.

"The Seeker's quest is done," Dennee tried once more. "He doesn't need a Confessor."

Pausing as she walked to the door, Kahlan said, "I'm Richard's Confessor."

She didn't look back.

She couldn't look back.

**-l-**

Renn hid when Jennsen came to find him. He didn't want to say goodbye.

He had thought that she would stay with him. But he didn't care anyway. He didn't care at all.

He heard Haden coming long before she found him. Her thoughts were loud.

"She is looking for you, and you are hiding… again."

Sniffing and rubbing the back of his hand over his face, Renn replied, "I'll stop hiding when you do."

Childish and precocious, all in one moment.

Haden stared, at a loss.

She was never very good at knowing what to say.

But she didn't have to speak, her thoughts did it for her.

Renn saw the way Haden thought of Jennsen, the worry that she had about keeping all her charges safe on such a journey, her excitement and heavy sense of responsibility at the challenge. The honor of being promoted in rank by Mistress Cara herself.

It was the danger and the worry that stood out to Renn.

If something happened to Jennsen, he would never see her again.

"I'll come say goodbye, but only because she'll be sad if I don't. She's such a girl like that," Renn asserted.

Startled into smiling a tiny smile, Haden agreed, "Yes, she is."

They went to find Jennsen together.

* * *

**Chapter 28: Legend**

* * *

Cara awoke with a start, confused as to where she was. She was stretched out beside Darken, still in her leathers.

She had meant to stay only until he had fallen asleep, but her exhaustion had overtaken her.

Removing one of her gloves, she rubbed her bare fingers over the amulet at her throat, her eyes on the Rada Han that encircled Darken's.

It was beginning to chafe him, a raw red ring of enflamed flesh forming where the enchanted metal rubbed against his skin. He thrashed in his sleep, unable to suppress the seizures of magical backlash that shook him ever more violently as the days went on.

Cara reached out, placing her hand against his chest as Hali had done so often. His heart beat erratically, but strongly.

  
It was reassuring.

Her eyes welled and Cara stood, disgusted at her sentimentality.

Pressing a kiss to Darken's forehead, Cara went in search of breakfast. She had a lot of work to do.

  
She hoped that Zedd and the others arrived soon.

**-l-**

Darken walked in the garden of light, limping and shaking as his han tore at him even here in the land of dreams.

The Creator reached for him, her lips forming words, Nicholas at her side seeming to plead with him to do something.

  
But Darken did not understand.

He would not be beaten by this. He had survived the training undergone by Mord'Sith. He had burned in the underworld.

  
He had sacrificed himself at the Pillars of Creation.

He would survive. He would conquer his power.

Himself.

**-l-**

Haden walked at the back of their traveling party, longbow in hand and eyes ever roaming. She had determined the back was the best place for her to be should they be attacked. It would give her time to sight and fire her bow before she moved in for close combat if they were attacked from the front.

If they were attacked from behind, her opponents would not get past Mistress Haden.

Mistress Haden.

She smirked to herself.

She had questioned why they did not take horses, but after seeing the state of the horses in the village surrounding Aydindril had held her tongue. With all of the infighting throughout the Midlands, the only horses available would have been old plow horses that the local farmers needed.

Haden would rather walk under her own power than ride a nag anyway.

Richard walked quietly beside Kahlan, just enjoying her presence. They hadn't spoken of anything of importance since leaving Aydindril – not Kahlan's decision to accompany them, not the prophecy, not Kahlan's duty to take a mate, not Darken's newfound powers.

It was nice. But it was false. It was like standing at the center of a storm, a spot of sunshine among walls of wind swirling all around.

But they needed it.

Off the path to their left came a crash, followed by the sound of a horse screaming, men shouting, and the unmistakable crashing swishing of something large fighting its way through the growth of the forest.

They reacted in concert, all their travels together allowing them to predict each other's actions. Richard drew the Sword of Truth, running in the direction of the struggle, Kahlan a step behind as she paused to draw her knives. Zedd brought up the rear, ruining the image of the wise old wizard by lifting his robe to making running easier, showing off hairy, skinny legs.

  
Haden cursed, setting an arrow to her bowstring as she followed behind, shouting at Jennsen to stay close behind her.

  
She would have to have a talk with the wizard and Lord Rahl the Younger about charging into danger when Haden was honor-bound to protect them.

She did not care what the Confessor did.

They arrived in a small pocket clearing. Richard stood over a woman who had collapsed to the forest floor, sobbing.

  
She wore a blue dress of plain cloth but fine cut. Her black hair contrasted delicately with her white skin. She was beautiful even with her brow wrinkled in sorrow, her tears like diamonds shining in the light.

"Oh, it's so horrible," she moaned into her hands.

Haden ignored her, on the lookout for threats. She kept her arrow at the ready, prepared to fire at any moment.

  
She did not have the patience for the woman's display. Crying never helped anyone.

Jennsen approached the woman, kneeling beside her to offer comfort.

"We heard noises, are you alright?"

Sniffling, the woman shook her head, sobbing all the harder. Jennsen was amazed at how she could look at once so beautiful and so wretched.

"What's your name?"

"K-kate," the woman stuttered.

Pulling a handkerchief from her bodice, Jennsen offered it to Kate as her companions watched.

"The Brothers are going to kill it, they said it's evil," Kate stopped, gulping in air as her voice hitched. "But it's so beautiful. I don't understand how it can be evil. I tried to stop them," she continued earnestly. "I really tried to stop them. But I'm just a woman!"

She began sobbing again.

Haden and Kahlan made eye contact, both irritated at the way Kate had disparaged her own gender. Jennsen simply continued to soothe the woman.

"What is it they're trying to kill and who are they?" Richard asked gently.

"The Brotherhood of the Gods," hiccupped Kate. "I'm a Sister of the order. They know best, Tyrn instructs women to always trust in the wisdom of their masculine betters. But the creature seems so pure. I didn't know! I didn't know they were using me to lure it here! I wouldn't have come, not if all of the Fenrisulfr followed on my heels!"

Kneeling, Zedd gently reached out to grasp Kate's chin, bringing her eyes up to meet his. He smiled and she smiled back, responding to the authority of an old wise man.

"What is it they used you to lure out, Kate?" Zedd asked kindly.

"Brother Jarl says I must remain pure for the glory of Tyrn or I will have to leave his service," she seemed compelled to explain. "That is why I have not taken a husband and raised children as Tyrn bids us to," she took another shuddering breath, her lips trembling.

"But they are attracted to virgins. The Brothers say this is because they're evil – they seek out purity and destroy it. But I didn't know, they didn't tell me!"

"What is it, Kate?"

"A unicorn. They're going to kill it."

She crumpled to the forest floor, sobbing once more.

Her cries were the only sound, the others trying to comprehend the existence of such a mythical creature.

And how someone could want to kill it.

Zedd fervently hoped it was true, that the creatures of the light had somehow survived in secret all these years.

Richard did not question it, having learned on his travels that absolutely nothing was impossible.

Kahlan marveled.

Jennsen tried to keep her heart from pounding.

Haden would believe it when she saw it.

Richard looked up, finding signs that showed the passing of a large creature, broken plants, deep tracks trampled by booted footprints.

Richard hefted his sword once more, prepared to follow.

"We must all go," Haden asserted. "I will not leave any of you unprotected."

They prepared to follow Richard as he tracked, hoping they were not too late to save a creature of legend.

No one had seen a unicorn since the last were killed during the Wizard Wars over one thousand years ago.

Jennsen looked over her shoulder to help Kate up.

She was gone.

* * *

**Chapter 29: Answer**

* * *

The unicorn was easy to track. It was dragging one of its hind legs, leaving long furrows in the ground. The Brothers were even easier to track - they made no effort to hide their boot prints, or the other signs that they had plowed through the forest.

There was another scream, a high pitched wail that sounded to Jennsen like the cry of a child.

They slowed, remaining under cover of the tree line.

A group of men with shaved heads, all wearing monk robes stood in a circle around the most horrible, and beautiful thing any of them had ever seen.

Beautiful, because surrounded by the monks stood a unicorn. Its fur was white and appeared to almost glow in the light. It was thin, its body more like that of a deer than a horse. Its tail was like that of a lion, a tuft of white hair at the end, its hooves were cloven, like a goat.

Only its head was truly formed like that of a horse, and the most magnificent horse imaginable, with eyes a liquid, shiny black.

The horn rose in a spiral to a wicked point, pearlescent like the inside of a sea shell.

Horrible, because an arrow stuck out of the unicorn's left flank, bright red blood staining white fur. More red coated that magnificent horn, white, foamy sweat dripping from the creature's sides.

One of the monks held his arm. The unicorn had gored him.

Before Richard could form a plan, an arrow whizzed by his head to strike one of the Brothers in the throat, quickly followed by another. It took down another of the monks, this time going straight through the eye.

Whirling, Richard saw Haden staring coolly down the shaft of yet another arrow as she sighted for another shot.

  
But the monks knew where they were now, advancing in the direction Haden had fired from.

Richard exploded from the woods, sword blazing in his hand as he cut down the first man advancing on them. It was too easy, the monks were no warriors - merely zealots with weapons.

Seeing his help wasn't needed, Zedd ignored the fight altogether, making his way to the unicorn, hands held out to show he meant no harm.

Haden wounded another monk with an arrow to the chest, then drew her Agiel to finish the job. The Confessor got there first, her hand around his throat as her eyes swirled black.

Richard killed the two remaining monks, one on the upswing, one on the backswing, disgusted at how easy it was to end their lives.

"Command me, Confessor."

"Why were you trying to kill this creature?"

"Because it's evil. Tyrn says all magic is evil."

Startled, Kahlan asked, "Why?"

"Because those who have it got it unnaturally. They are aspiring to be gods. It is blasphemous."

"And the unicorn?"

"It is an unnatural creature made by witches and demons. It hunts good virgin women."

"Like," Richard intervened, "the one you used to lure it here?"

"Freya Kate," The monk answered after Kahlan indicated he should, "is the Virgin Mother. Tyrn chose her to bring his children into the world. She is very pure, but not as pure and good as you, mistress."

He sputtered, blood leaking from his lips as he wheezed.

"The arrow punctured his lung," Haden volunteered. "He's drowning."

"Are you finished?" she asked, looking at Richard.

He looked at Kahlan, who nodded. He signaled to Haden, who drew her Agiel, its hum contrasting to the wheeze of the monk's breathing.

"Wait!" Jennsen shouted before the Agiel plunged down.

Richard looked pained, Kahlan impatient, but Haden met Jennsen's eyes, one eyebrow raised in question.

"How did you know where to look for the unicorn? And are you hunting other creatures like this?"

Pleasantly surprised, Haden turned back to the monk as the Confessor ordered him to answer Jennsen's questions.

Yellow foam fizzed from his mouth, his eyes rolling white in his head as he convulsed.

"Magic," Haden spat, the remnants of the death spell tingling her senses.

"Excuse me," Zedd called, forgotten in the midst of the fight.

The unicorn had backed him against a tree, its horn aimed at a very... sensitive place.

"In my rush to aid this wonderful creature, I forgot that they take exception to being near those that are... less than virginal."

Haden and Richard both took a step back, knowing that they had no hope of helping lest they end up being menaced just as Zedd was.

Kahlan approached the unicorn, cooing softly under her breath. The unicorn's ears perked up, some of the tension leaving its body as it turned its back on Zedd, burying its muzzle in Kahlan's chest.

The sense of peace, the wonder, that rolled from its downy white fur was so profound that it brought tears to Kahlan's eyes.

  
"Jennsen," she called, "if I keep her calm, can you pull the arrow out?"

Jennsen hesitated, but then cautiously moved forward, thinking maybe, probably, that one time didn't count.

As soon as she got within three feet of the creature, the unicorn whirled, teeth bared in warning.

Jennsen backed away, face flaming as four pairs of surprised eyes fixed themselves on her.

"What?" she asked, indignant.

Haden smiled.

**-l-**

Cara had worked all day to replace the colored stones marking the map in her - no, Lord Rahl's - work room. Instead of different colors for the villages, monks, deaths, and creatures, she had gone back through all of the reports and coded the occurrences by time.

What she found made a great deal of disturbing sense.

A colored wave spread over her map, arcing toward D'Hara, neatly cutting it off from Aydindril, the other great power of the Midlands.

First came the monks, followed by the wolves, then her warriors turned up dead or missing, and finally, villages refused to swear.

Alone in the chamber, Cara allowed herself a moment of weakness, leaning forward to rest her face in her hands.

  
She needed Darken, whole and healthy. She was overwhelmed.

She straightened, pushing her too long, yet too short, hair away from her forehead as her hands came to rest on her abdomen.

She needed sleep.

But she did not have time.

* * *

 

  
**Chapter 30: Tyrant**   


  


* * *

"Mistress, there is a mob at the gates. They carry torches. I believe they mean to burn us from the palace."

Cara straightened from where she had slumped over the work table, a page stuck to her face by her own saliva ruining her dignity. She hastily brushed it off, blinking and pushing her hair back from her face.

"Mistress?" the Mord'Sith asked again. Cara could not remember her name.

"How many?" Cara asked, still trying to bring her mind into the here and now.

"Perhaps fifty. Enough to do damage, but we can easily shoot them from the ramparts. Their heads will grace the pikes in front of the palace walls before the noonday meal."

"No," Cara barked, thinking of how Richard and Kahlan would react to seeing the heads of villagers mounted on spikes.

She found she was sympathetic to the mob outside the gates - they felt threatened and wished to protect what was theirs.

  
Cara could understand that.

But she would protect what was hers.

"Give them a chance to surrender or flee, I don't care which. Just stall them. I will fetch Lord Rahl."

"But my lord -"

"Go!"

The Mord'Sith bowed her head, then went to obey orders. Cara was grateful she had not had to waste time dominating the girl. She wondered when Mord'Sith power games had lost their luster.

As she entered the chamber where Darken wasted away, she thought it was probably around the time she had begun to rule a ruined kingdom while the man she loved was consumed by his own power.

She no longer had time for the posturing and questioning that characterized an ambitious Mord'Sith. She needed swift obedience. Now, more so than ever, she understood why Darken had been so quick to draw his knife in the time he had ruled.

Obedience was obedience, no matter its source, and one did not always have the leisure to win followers over in a pleasant way.

Darken Rahl understood that, and Cara had come to understand. Her travels with Richard, Kahlan, and Zedd had done much to temper her nature, and for a time she had even come to question herself.

But she saw now - kindness, gentility, they were good, true things. But ferocity was needed too. Cara was First Mistress of the Mord'Sith.

And proud.

**-l-**

"Cara," Darken croaked, opening blood shot eyes. He had paled to an unhealthy shade of gray, his normally tan skin ashen.

"Darken," she said, only stopping herself from saying 'my lord' at the last moment, "there is a mob at the gates. They have torches."

"Then shoot them and mount their heads on the pikes," Darken answered, sounding confused. It was the standard response to a siege.

If fifty villagers could be called a siege.

Cara sat on the edge of the bed, picking up a cloth that sat by a water pitcher on Darken's bedside table. Wetting the cloth, she began to run it over his overheated skin. His face was gaunt. He could no longer bear to eat.

"This could be an opportunity to show mercy. If we respond as we would have...before, the people will simply seek to overthrow you again. But, if you grant them mercy-"

"If I pretend to be my brother," Darken said bitterly, turning his face away.

Irritated with his petulance, though she knew he was in pain, Cara dropped the cloth on the table with a wet plop.

"It was you," she said harshly, "that said there is not much difference between you and your brother back in that cave."

His head still turned to the side, Darken answered, "Except that he has a great talent for being seen as a hero, despite his actions. I believe that Richard and I could issue the same proclamation, and be met with cheers and disconcerting ridicule." He turned to face her again, a tiny ironic smile in place. "Guess who would get the cheers."

"Stop this," Cara snapped, her patience at an end. "You are Lord Rahl, and I refuse to sit here and watch you wallow in self-pity. You are getting up, getting dressed, and then you are going to show these people that Darken Rahl is a king, with mercy in one hand and death in the other."

Darken blinked at her owlishly, days of little food and constant pain making his usually sharp mind dull.

He had, in fact, done very little but wallow in self-pity and try to understand his dreams since he reached this state.

Somewhere in the powerful han that his body housed, Darken had become lost.

"Mercy and death in equal measure," Darken muttered, thinking back to the day he had first confronted his brother about their similarities.

Mercy and death in equal measure.

With Cara's help, Darken rose from the bed to make his brother proud.

**-l-**

Kahlan walked with the unicorn. She (for Kahlan insisted the creature was a she) had allowed Zedd to heal her from afar as Kahlan stroked her nose. They had all expected the creature to vanish back into myth at that point, but instead she had attached herself to Kahlan, following her like an oversized dog.

Zedd supposed that the lore surrounding them must be true. They seemed to take great pleasure in being near virgin woman, and were fierce to protect them.

Richard had found that out the hard way when attempting to talk to Kahlan as they walked. The unicorn had been very firm about just how close he was allowed to get to the Mother Confessor.

In a way Zedd was relieved. It meant that he would not have to keep such a close watch on the two, who he always feared would one day get carried away...

And then his grandson would be lost to him forever, and worse, the Seeker would be lost to the world.

Zedd loved Kahlan like a daughter, and his heart ached for the two more than they could know. But he would never be sorry for keeping Richard from the fate of the confessed.

Jennsen walked with Haden, both of them deep in thought.

Jennsen was thinking of the death she had seen her friends deal. She had hated Denna and the D'Haran soldiers that had killed her mother and hurt those she cared for. She had hated to see Richard order death on those same people when he was in Orden's thrall.

But she was glad her friends were alive. She couldn't hate them, even as she remembered the shocked look on that monk's face as Haden's arrow went through his throat.

Jennsen had always known that the Seeker killed in his quest, but it was the first time she had seen him do so, and facing opponents who were clearly not his match.

She had been told all her life that Darken Rahl was a tyrant and that he did horrible things. But then Richard had tried to explain that away, telling her that they were not so different, the three remaining Rahls.

Thinking of Richard's face as he killed the monks and her own sense of shameful satisfaction that they were the victors in the battle, Jennsen thought she was beginning to understand.

Haden's thoughts were considerably less profound, though just as important to the thinker.

Jennsen could not get near the unicorn, though she had seemed to think she might be able to. Haden was very curious and very determined. She would find out why.

"Haden," Jennsen piped up, once again reminding Haden of a bird. She was an inquisitive little sparrow, ordinary until you saw it fly.

Birds were beautiful in flight.

"Haden?" Jennsen questioned again, aware that Haden hadn't heard a word she said.

Haden cursed her oddly poetic thoughts, blaming her uncharacteristic romanticism on the delicate flower of a woman who walked beside her.

"Yes?"

"I asked if you would teach me to shoot a bow."

Without thinking, Haden replied, "Anything for you, Sparrow."

**-l-**

The crowd was flinging itself against the gates, torches blazing. They had not responded well to the Mord'Sith's warning to surrender or retreat. Soon they would begin attempting to throw their torches over the wall.

Such was the scene when Darken and Cara arrived, Darken leaning heavily on his lover.

He straightened before they moved into full view, placing the key in his Rada Han and turning it. He gave the collar to Cara so that she could snap it back around his neck should he lose control.

The instant he was free of the enchanted prison, clouds began to gather above. Cara grasped his hand and he closed his eyes, breathing in and out and he thought calming thoughts.

The look of bliss on Hali's face as she welcomed him in the gardens of the afterlife.

The forgiveness of his son.

Cara's hand in his.

Clouds still gathered, but not as quickly.

He felt better, more aware than he had been while wearing the Rada Han, his barely controlled magic now having a place to go.

Striding onto the rampart, Darken prepared to address the crowd below. He kept Cara firmly at his side.

It was not only because he needed to lean on her.

The angry cry of the mob grew louder at the sight of him.

He addressed them in his general's voice, pitched easily to carry. He spoke of enemies within and without. He spoke of his relationship with his brother, the Seeker.

He spoke of his desire for a peaceful, safe kingdom where families could live together in peace.

They did not believe him, as he knew they would not.

The first torch flew through the air, the fire calling to Darken, compelling him, dancing along the fragile control he had on his han.

Lightning streaked from the sky, called by his bitter rage, striking a tree behind the crowd.

All drew back in fear.

Save Cara, who kept her hand firmly in his.

Focusing on his heartbeat, breathing deeply through his nose, Darken reined his passion in, concentrating with all his fractured heart on his deepest, most private wish.

The torches of the mob and the smoldering remains of the lightning-struck tree were extinguished as the skies opened with soft rain.

The crowd looked at Darken Rahl with new eyes, surprised at the unexpected mercy as their anger fizzled with their torches.

  
Mercy in one hand, death in another.

Cara turned her face up, the warm drops caressing her skin.

She smiled, in case her son was watching.

She knew in a way without knowing, that the Creator cried proud tears.

* * *

**Chapter 31: Peace**

* * *

Haden kept watch over her sleeping companions. They would reach the People's Palace in another day, maybe two, barring anything unexpected. Things had been surprisingly quiet since they had rescued the unicorn.

It made Haden uneasy. In her experience quiet only occurred at the end of a battle and before a trap was sprung.

She did not have to have prophetic dreams to know which this was.

Kahlan slept curled against the unicorn, as she had since the creature had joined their travels. Her wrinkled brow told Haden that the Mother Confessor was dreaming the dream.

_Should the Mother Confessor betray the Son of Blood, the world will fall, all magic erased._

The false light of pre-dawn began to turn everything a light grey. Haden enjoyed this moment, when there was absolute stillness before the creatures of the day began to stir.

As it did every morning, the unicorn eased itself from Kahlan's side, snorting at Haden in warning before it went in search of water and grazing.

That was what she assumed it did. The three attempts she had made to follow it had been met with loud whineys and admonishments from the Mother Confessor to "stop bothering the unicorn."

As if Haden was a child to be scolded.

Watching the unicorn exit their camp site, she idly considered attempting to follow it one last time. But it would no doubt end the same way, and Haden had heard Kahlan blather on enough to last more than one life time.

She was profoundly glad that the unicorn had not attached itself to Jennsen. Her innocent little Sparrow was not so innocent, it seemed.

And Haden was grateful.

**-l-**

Once out of sight of the redbadwoman, Sepina found water. She touched her horn to it three times, thinking of her mother.

  
Mother appeared in the water, ready to read all that Sepina had gleaned from the whitegoodwoman in Sepina's liquid black eyes.

_...the world will fall, all magic erased._

Brother Jarl watched the dreams of the soul stealer, Kahlan Amnell, pleased with what he saw. With the help of Sepina, Tyrn's daughter, they would bring a new era to the Midlands, a time of peace and prosperity that would only be possible once the land had been cleansed of those who held stolen power.

With Tyrn's blessing, they would all live as they were meant to in the beginning, when Tyrn first touched the earth and brought life to man and all the creatures. A simple life, where children would not need to fear, where woman and men knew their places.

A world without monsters in the dark.

A world without wolves disguised as sheep.

A world where all were the same, exactly equal, none more powerful than the other.

A world that worshipped Tyrn and his brothers.

Jarl would lead the way - he would be the shepherd.

Looking up at Freya Kate, who concentrated on the water to maintain contact with her godly offspring, Jarl said, "Tell her this is what she must do."

Kate obeyed.

Receiving Mother's word, Sepina returned to whitegoodwoman, prepared to follow her another day. Mother said follow her, Mother said watch her dreams, Mother said...

**-l-**

As word spread of Darken Rahl's power - and his choice not to use it, the soldiers returned.

Some of them would have returned even without the incentive, their loyalty beyond question. The Third Battalion in particular, were perhaps overzealous in their celebration of Darken's return to power.

Cara sifted through piles of reports of the trail of "celebration" they had left in their wake as they made their way to the People's Palace - some in groups, others singly.

How had Egremont done all of this and remained sane? The Mord'Sith did not have such a rigid command structure, nor so much paperwork.

Just looking at it made Cara queasy.

She quickly broke off a piece of bread from the loaf she had begun keeping at her side, chewing slowly and swallowing before taking a deep breath.

The nausea passed.

She was surprised by the door opening, though she gave no outer sign. She had ordered that no one disturb her.

  
She turned, annoyed.

It was Darken, wearing only one of his vests and a pair of simple breeches he had ordered made to match. He had grown used to the greater freedom of movement they afforded on his travels. He looked better.

Not well, by any means.

But better.

They had discovered, after that day on the ramparts, that Darken fared much better if his Rada Han was removed once a day to allow him to dispel some of the magical energy his body constantly generated.

And so every morning Cara helped Darken to dress and removed his Rada Han. Then they went to the devotional balcony. Darken accepted the vows of those that had accepted him as lord once more.

And then he made it rain.

Cara's spies among the villages brought her whispers.

Some said he was the Keeper himself. Some said he was one of the Shadow People, an evil spirit that refused to leave the land of the living.

But others said that he was a king among kings and welcomed his rule. They were the ones who had been hit the hardest by the chaos following his demise. They craved the stability that he had offered them.

Still others spoke of seeing the Seeker, and the stories the Seeker told of Lord Rahl's heroism. They talked in hushed voices of how the Seeker called Darken Rahl "brother."

Of wolves and monks, there was no word.

Which meant that there was something worth knowing.

"You did not come to bed last night, Cara," Darken's voice snapped her back to the present.

He did not say _I missed you_.

"I didn't want to disturb you," Cara replied, sifting through paper once more. Her hair was a tangled mess, dark smudges under her eyes.

"You wouldn't have."

Overly hot hands brushed the back of Cara's neck as Darken began to gently untangle her hair. Her haggard appearance brought home to him just how much work - work that should rightfully rest on his shoulders - Cara was taking upon herself.

  
He cursed his weakness, cursed his inability, his poor training. It was a blow to his pride to see his kingdom ruled by another.

And a stab to the heart to see Cara so overworked, though he would never admit it.

He was already beginning to tremble from the mere act of standing so long. Seeing that he would not go back to bed, Cara waved him to a chair.

They spent the afternoon going through reports and strategizing together.

For Cara, it was an enormous burden lifted.

For Darken, it was both familiar and unfamiliar and carried with it an odd sense of peace, though they talked of war.

  
They were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Mistress, my lord," the Mord'Sith stopped to bow, fist over her heart, "another group of soldiers has arrived, as well as Lord Rahl the Younger and his party."

Two brows, one golden, one ebony were raised in concert as a look was shared.

Lord Rahl the Younger?

"One other thing, mistress, my lord - the Mother Confessor travels with a unicorn."

Cara and Darken both began to issue orders at the same time, Cara stopping herself once she realized what she was doing.

  
Darken, in a sudden flash of insight, gestured for Cara to handle the matter.

After all, she had handled everything else with the level of competence he had come to expect from her long ago.

He was not his father.

* * *

**Chapter 32: Mad**

* * *

Soldiers in worn, ragtag uniforms milled about the main courtyard. They snuck looks at the party standing in the center, a low, constant muttering signaling their curiosity.

Jennsen caught a few words.

_Confessor. Wizard. Seeker._

But the one that seemed to be said, again and again, was _unicorn_.

The Mord'Sith that they had first spoken with upon their arrival returned and began to organize the soldiers, sending them to what Jennsen supposed was the barracks.

Another Mord'Sith approached them, after a quiet conversation with the first.

She was rather striking, with hair so blond it was almost white, eyes of a startling red-pink, and skin like white marble.

Further, she was of small stature, with fine, delicate bone structure. Oddly small for a Mord'Sith, yet there was confidence in her step and wickedness in her expression.

She offered a quick bow, fist over heart, to Richard in greeting and then addressed Haden, a knowing smile on her face.

  
"Mistress Haden. Your return to the People's Palace has been much anticipated."

Haden had not told her companions of her promotion. Ignoring their questioning looks, which ranged from soft puzzlement to minor outrage, Haden answered, "It is Lord Rahl you should address, Aliandra. Or have your manners grown even worse since the last time I saw you?"

Aliandra reacted to the insult with a wide grin, which Haden returned, and it became apparent to all that they were old friends.

  
Jennsen disliked her immediately.

"Forgive my inattention, Lord Rahl," Aliandra addressed Richard once more. "I have orders to escort you and your companions to Lord Rahl the Elder and Mistress Cara once the Mother Confessor has stabled her...pet."

"Go ahead, Richard," Kahlan spoke up. "I'll get the unicorn settled and then meet you...wherever you're going."

Richard pulled her to the side, nervous now that they were surrounded by so many that used to be enemies.

Old habits died hard.

Richard thought of the damage just a single Mord'Sith was capable of doing, the scars Denna had left marking more than his flesh.

"Will you be alright?" he asked Kahlan in a hushed voice, glancing over his shoulder at the unicorn that even now watched him with agitation.

Kahlan smiled, though there was tension around her eyes that only those who knew her well would notice. "Richard, I'll be fine. Besides," mischief crept into her tone, "I'll have the unicorn with me, and I highly doubt any of them will be able to approach her."

Reassured at finding that the unicorn did have some uses after all, Richard nodded and let Kahlan go.

Aliandra called a page boy to show Kahlan where she might keep the unicorn. The mythical creature seemed to accept the boy readily enough, and followed placidly at Kahlan's side.

"Now, Lord Rahl, wizard, Mistress Haden, my lady," Aliandra extended a hand, "shall we?"  
She was very chipper, almost upbeat.

Jennsen frowned, making sure she stayed near Haden.

Whoever had heard of red eyes being attractive?

And white hair? How silly.

**-l-**

Darken stood as the door opened to reveal his brother, followed by the wizard, his sister, and the Mord'Sith he recognized as Haden. He clenched his teeth against the black spots that swam over his vision at the sudden movement.

Cara moved to stand behind Darken, prepared to catch him if he fell, knowing the blow to his pride it would be for Richard to see him so weak.

There was Richard, as wholesome as Darken remembered, if a tad unkempt. Their sister followed close behind. She watched him with wide blue eyes.

Darken was startled to realize that they were the same color as his own. He had forgotten, allowed the memories to fade of the days he had spent looking into those eyes, telling lies.

And truths.

Richard was shocked at how bad Darken and Cara looked. Cara seemed exhausted, and Darken... If Richard didn't know any better, he'd say he was a baneling.

"Are you wearing a Rada Han?" he blurted without thinking.

Startled into a laugh that shook his frame, Darken replied, "Tactful as ever, brother."

Richard strode forward to grip Darken's forearm. Darken returned the gesture, though his grip was not as firm as it should have been.

"I told you we'd meet again."

"So you did."

The moment was broken by Zedd stepping forward to lay his hands on Darken's temples, even going so far as to pull on one of his eyelids to study the orb beneath.

"By all means, Zeddicus," Darken said dryly, "have your way with me."

An indelicate snort followed by bright laughter had all eyes on Jennsen. She paid them no mind. She had determinedly not thought of what it would be like to see Rahl again. To find him making jokes while Grandfather manhandled him...

It was very, very funny. And a great relief.

"You've arrived in time for dinner," Cara said, ignoring Darken's apparently mad sister.

There was one in every generation.

"Go without us," Zedd said, still examining Darken's vital signs. "He needs his first lesson immediately."

* * *

**Chapter 33: Friends**

* * *

Darken took Zeddicus to the room he had originally used to practice his magic. It was already damaged, and the furniture already cleared. It would be ideal should something…go awry.

Once settled, Darken removed his Rada Han, immediately clamping down on his han to prevent something explosive from happening. As always, he was unable to contain it all. Raindrops could be heard outside as his magic took the path of least resistance, the one he had forged for it as an outlet.

Zedd watched the whole process thoughtfully. He could feel Hali standing at his side, though he knew that if he looked, she would not be there.

A chance to right a wrong. To guide a life.

"Lesson number one," Zedd mused, "to hold water, relax your hand."

Darken said nothing, but his look spoke volumes.

Outside, it rained harder.

"You're trying too hard," Zedd explained, huffing. "Your han is like water. You can direct it, and you can contain it, but only if you are flexible. It was not like this when it first manifested, correct? It's only gotten worse, the harder you try to control it."

Eyeing the rigid way the boy held himself and the tension in his jaw, Zedd continued, "This is going to take longer than I thought."

**-l-**

Cara had the formal dining hall prepared, though it had not been used since Darken's return. There had not been need for it.

  
She barely noticed what was served at the table – her mind was spinning with all she needed to tell her friends, and all of the questions she had for them, about wolves, and monks, unicorns…

The Son of Blood.

She rubbed her bone amulet, then took her seat at the table to the left of the empty throne at the head that was reserved for Darken. She seated Richard to the right of the throne.

It was very deliberate. Darken needed a new general, a brave man that all would follow without question. A man who could be trusted.

Who better than the Seeker?

When Kahlan arrived, she frowned at the arrangement, but said nothing, merely meeting Cara's eyes, a frown on her face. Cara had not expected Kahlan to abandon her post at Aydindril.

If Richard did not recognize the significance of the seating arrangement, Kahlan did.

Haden and Jennsen sat across from one another, Haden next to Cara and Jennsen next to Richard, as the hierarchy dictated. Kahlan was left to take the next seat down by Jennsen, the only one present who did not hold rank in D'Hara.

  
"There is a lot to talk about," Kahlan said as she sat and began filling her plate from the communal platters on the table. It was not the sort of food she expected to see served by a ruler. She wondered just how much D'Hara had lost when Rahl's reign of terror had been brought to an end.

"We should wait for Darken and Zedd," was Cara's reply.

They lapsed into talks of the good old days, stories of battles, of maneuvers gone awry. Haden had a rather funny story to tell about Cara, made all the funnier by her customary stoicism. Cara allowed herself to be amused, adding the detail that that particular soldier would limp for the rest of his life.

Haden asked for the platter of meat to be passed and Richard did so, the roasted slices of pork passing right under Cara's nose.

She leaned back while simultaneously bowing her head forward so her hair would cover her face. Swallowing convulsively as she groped for her cup, she held her breath to keep from vomiting.

She coughed, the taste of sick in her mouth, but she was able to master her nausea with the help of the cool water in her cup.

  
The others were still in the grip of some story Richard was telling of how Kahlan had tried to kill him when they first met. Cara did not think anyone had noticed.

Jennsen watched Cara, took note of how pale she was and the aversion she seemed to have to the pork on the table, and began to wonder.

The rain stopped.

**-l-**

Learning to let go was the hardest thing Darken would ever have to do. He was a man of extremes, high passions that he ruled with an iron fist. He kept himself under tight control, like a snake, always coiled to spring. It was the practice of a lifetime, the product of all he had been through as a boy, and then a man.

All Zedd's fault.

When Hali had said that he would have the chance to right a wrong, he had not realized how profound the statement was.

  
Darken Rahl needed Zedd's help. And Zedd…

Was being given the chance to help him become the man he could have been without Zedd's interference. The man who might have been born whole, to different parents, if Zedd had not been so arrogant as to play Creator.

It was dangerous and altogether humbling to delve into the inner workings of the mind of Darken Rahl.

They had been enemies far longer than friends. Still, in the bottom of Zedd's heart, there burned a flame of anger and distrust for the House of Rahl.

But always when he examined that part of himself, he saw only his own eyes looking back at him.

The easing of Darken's unyielding grasp on his magic, his emotions, did not come easily, cleanly, or all at once.

  
But it came.

It wavered, it was fragile, it would require more practice, but it was there.

"I think that is enough for today," Zedd said to the weary Darken.

Darken opened his eyes, sweat pouring from his face. He had the dragon of all headaches.

But his skin was cooler to the touch.

He slipped the Rada Han around his sore neck, clicking the lock into place.

Zedd went to leave as if he knew his way about the palace.

But then, Darken remembered with shock, the wizard did know his way around the halls.

He and Darken's father had been friends. Very good friends.

"Zeddicus," Darken said, still seated on the floor, "why are you helping me?"

Zedd turned back, bushy eyebrows raised in question.

"Where are the dire predictions, the clichés about power and corruption? Where is the doubt and the fear, the declaration of my devilry?"

Zedd smiled, realization flooding through him with the touch of an invisible hand. His heart beat twice.

  
"I think you know the answer."

Their eyes met for one heartbeat, two, as they remembered the sound of waves crashing against sand and the light that flowed through the Stone of Tears.

Hali.

"Come," Darken said as he stood, "we'll miss dinner."

* * *

**Chapter 34: Lady**

* * *

Kahlan thrashed, the comforts she was afforded as an honored guest of Lord Rahl doing nothing to still her nightmares.

  
The tree and the sapling, the rose in between. The voice of the Dreamcaster, the cry of the Starless Blackbird.

  
But this time her unicorn was among the wolves, and they were tearing it apart.

"Sepina!" her dream self screamed, and Kahlan knew that was the unicorn's name.

But Kahlan could not move, could not help. She was rooted to the spot, suddenly small and tangled among the leaves of the white rose.

 _Kahlan_ , an insidious voice that had no sound whispered to her heart, _trust no one, trust only yourself_.

The tree and the sapling, both enormous to her, blocked the rays of the sun. The rose died, its withered stems becoming her tomb.

_Trust no one else, you must stand alone._

In the stables, Sepina watched the full moon from her stall, withered white roses reflected in her eyes.

**-l-**

Cara was examining her maps and ordering her notes in the room she had come to think of as the council chamber well before the sun rose.

After Darken and Zedd had finally made it to the dining hall the night before, it had been decided that political matters would be discussed the next day, when everyone had rested. Cara had intended to catch up on much-needed sleep.

But she had been unable to rest, plagued by a night-long nausea she couldn't fight.

She had finally slipped from Darken's suite, lest the sound of her retching wake him.

She could not afford his questions.

The door opened. Cara looked up to see Jennsen Rahl, dressed as befitted her station and carrying a tray that held two cups, a pot of tea, as well as a few pieces of toasted bread.

"Hello," she said rather shyly, hovering in the doorway. Cara motioned her forward, hoping that she would be able to get rid of her quickly, her exhaustion and sour stomach making her more recalcitrant than usual.

Jennsen set the tray on one of the many tables, careful of all the parchment scattered about. Turning to Cara, she gestured self-consciously at the rich lavender gown she wore, the satin contrasting beautifully with her skin. "My dress was gone when I woke up," she seemed compelled to explain. "There were a dozen or so like this in my closet."

There was an awkward pause.

Jennsen poured the tea, carefully bringing a cup to Cara, offering it to her with both hands. "Here," she said, compassion lighting her face, "I noticed that you might be…not feeling well. This should help."

Warily, Cara took the proffered cup, taking a sip.

"It will take a moment to work," Jennsen added, twisting her hands nervously now that they were not occupied.

It was true. Cara did feel noticeably better.

"They were made for you," Cara said shortly.

"What?"

"The gowns. They were made for you when Darken thought you might return to him with the boxes. He thought you liked purple."

"Oh," was the most intelligent thing Jennsen could think of to say, her mind buzzing with the thought that her brother had planned on her return, had made arrangements for her comfort.

Did he still have her kitten?

"Lady Rahl –"

"Please don't," Jennsen interrupted. "We both know I'm not anyone's lady."

Cara shrugged, her stomach settled enough that she found she was interested to see what Jennsen had brought to eat. Once Jennsen had distributed the buttered, toasted bread and jam, they ate in companionable silence as the sun rose over the horizon, changing the false grey light of pre-dawn to a bright morning glow.

"But you are. Someone's lady, I mean," Jennsen added, looking pointedly at Cara's abdomen.

Cara watched the smaller woman's face, studied the way her muscles played under her skin. Idly, she ran a finger over the amulet at her throat.

"Darken doesn't know," she said at last. "He _can't_ know."

Jennsen leaned forward, intent on placing her hand against the very slight swell of Cara's stomach, saying, "But –"

Cara stopped the contact before it was made with a grip that bruised, expression fierce. "He can't know. Swear to it!"

Mutely, Jennsen nodded, her lips parted. She felt like a mouse in the shadow of a hawk.

Abruptly, Cara let her go, leaving Jennsen to examine the red handprint swiftly fading to a mottled purple that adorned her wrist.

"What," Cara said, back to Jennsen as she ordered papers, "will it take to buy your silence?"

"Why don't you want him to know?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you."

Growing more confident as she realized the Mord'Sith wouldn't or couldn't truly hurt her, Jennsen retorted, "You do if you want me to keep quiet."

Suddenly Cara was so close Jennsen could feel her body heat, green eyes like chips of jade burning angrily into her own. "He needs me. I will not be sent away somewhere safe while the kingdom crumbles and a new enemy attacks!"

The voice was low, but the hairs on Jennsen's arms rose just the same.

Jennsen opened her mouth to say she didn't want anything, when a thought occurred to her.

"There is one thing I want," Jennsen said, looking up into Cara's face. "No, two things."

There was a spark in the redhead's blue eyes that was altogether familiar to Cara.

She decided she liked Jennsen.

* * *

**Chapter 35: Right**

* * *

"And then Zedd found a book written by this old wizard –"

"The First Wizard of the First Era," Zedd supplied.

"Right, him," Richard continued, "and it had a prophecy that mentioned the Son of Blood."

_The Son of Blood will rise with the howling of wolves and the flight of birds._   
_Doomed love will give him birth, sacrifice his cradle._   
_Loved and hated in equal measure, the world rests in his hands._

"And what of the unicorn?" Darken asked from his position reclined in the window seat, looking out over the palace grounds.

"Met by chance," Zedd said as he examined the maps of the council chamber. "Rescued from those troubling monks that seem to be popping up everywhere."

"The monks," Cara began, "seem to be the root of the problem." She directed them all to the map she had spent so much time marking with colored stones, explaining what each color stood for. "So you can see," she concluded, "that the monks arrive, and are shortly followed by the wolves, death, and the people's refusal to –"

"Bend to the will of the tyrant they thought themselves free of?" Kahlan's voice rang across the chamber.

Cara snapped her head up, surprised.

Kahlan's lips were pressed into a tight white line. She wasn't sure what had come over her.

Or was it something wrong with them? How could she trust any of them, when they all seemed so corrupt? After all, she was the Mother Confessor, the rightful ruler of the Midlands.

Wasn't she?

She blinked, confused.

"Kahlan," Richard said, a pained note in his voice, a silent pleading.

She nodded for Cara to continue.

Cara did, though the atmosphere of the room had changed.

She detailed the amount of damage done to the kingdom, the subjects that had returned to take the devotional oath in the mornings, the number of Mord'Sith dead or missing, the frustrating inability of her spies to root out information on the monks, the towns that chased anyone with a hint of magic from their midst – the list went on.

"What you are saying, mistress," Haden assessed, "is that we are in the middle of a war that only we are aware of, with no idea exactly who we are fighting."

Pinning Haden with a sardonic glance, Cara replied, "In a word? Yes."

"Brother," Darken said from the window seat, having been paying close attention to all that went on despite his apparently relaxed attitude, "you will examine the troops and consult with Cara and myself on how they may best be used. Haden," the Mord'Sith snapped to attention, "you shall assist Cara in whatever she requires. Obey her as if she were me."

Haden saluted.

Darken turned back to the window, idly rubbing his lip with the second finger of his right hand.

The others took that as a sign that the meeting was over.

Kahlan went to spend time with Sepina, fearing that she would grow lonely in a palace where only a few were capable of approaching her. After a word from Cara, Haden left the room, quick strides suggesting she had been given orders. Jennsen wandered out after her, disappointed at being overlooked.

Cara returned to her maps and papers, Richard lingering behind her.

"In the practice room then, my boy?" Zedd said to Darken.

"In a moment, Zeddicus, it seems my brother wants to speak with me."

Richard opened his mouth, turning red.

"Oh, come now, Richard, if you thought any louder, I could hear you as well as if I were Listener."

Sighing, Richard asked, "Did you just make me a general?"

Turning from the window, Darken stood to look at his younger sibling. "Essentially."

"Why?"

Far away, and yet right at Richard's side, Darken murmured, "It puts everything right. How it should have been, all along."

Silence.

"I don't want the position. I just want to be Richard."

With a sudden, inappropriate laugh, Darken clapped his brother ironically on the back, saying, "And you think I want mine? People think that I enjoy being Lord Rahl – that my life is a vale of pleasure. It is fortunate that I learned to control my reactions at an early age, or surely my continual laughter would have led them to conclude I'm mad.[iv]"

Surprised, Richard asked, "So why did you come back?"

Darken did not answer.

He didn't have one.

But Richard did.

His brother returned because the land needed a ruler and Darken Rahl was eminently suited to it.

He returned because it was the right thing to do.

That was what Richard believed. Even if Darken didn't.

_It puts everything right. How it should have been, all along._

Richard thought that he and his brother might want the same thing.

A place to be safe.

And a family.

* * *

**Chapter 36: Doubt**

* * *

Haden stood with Lord Rahl the Younger as they drilled the troops. Richard Rahl was a good leader, one of those men that inspired loyalty without trying. Many of the men would follow him whether or not they respected him as a scion of the House of Rahl.

For the others, there was Haden.

She knocked a surly laggard to the ground, planting a booted foot on his back as she drew her Agiel, the low hum making the man sweat.

"Lord Rahl gave you an order. Did you not hear him?" she asked in a soft pleasant voice. She brought her Agiel ever closer to his face, allowing him to hear the increased volume of its torturous whine.

"Haden, no," Lord Rahl said softly.

Haden looked up, studying the boyish face of her younger master. She sheathed her Agiel, moving away from the downed soldier.

Richard helped the man up, giving Haden a look of gratitude.

"Disobey me again, and I won't stop her."

And just like that, he had the man's loyalty.

Haden was not certain if Lord Rahl the Younger understood the service she had just performed for him.

But she didn't care. She had done her duty.

The drills resumed, the soldiers striving harder than they had before.

Richard's attention wandered. Kahlan could be seen walking with her unicorn in the pasture beyond the training field.

  
"Mistress," a figure on horseback called.

Haden approached, finding that it was Aliandra, tacked to ride far and armed to the teeth.

"I am to ride to every temple of the Mord'Sith," she said before Haden had a chance to ask, "and gather messages and reports for Lord Rahl and our First Mistress."

"An honor," Haden said, shortly.

"You would think," Aliandra replied, looking over Haden's head.

Haden turned. Mistress Cara stood on the wall overlooking the training field, Jennsen at her side, their hair flowing around their faces as the wind blew from the south.

"I think a little birdie has been chirping in our mistress' ear," Aliandra continued, small white face sharp, red-pink eyes like twin drops of blood. "I have been turned into a glorified messenger."

Haden said nothing.

Aliandra snorted. "This is why I enjoy your company so, Haden. You have the pristine gift of silence." She waggled her brows suggestively, "Or is another 'pristine gift' you have on your mind?"

Quick as a swooping falcon, Haden struck the rump of Aliandra's mount, startling the horse into a full gallop.

Aliandra cursed, bouncing in the saddle, but the recriminations soon turned to laughter that lingered even when she faded from sight.

Haden returned to the practice field at Richard's call.

**-l-**

"Yes," Zedd encouraged, hands held out as if he were the one guiding the magic, "exactly like that!"

Darken exhaled, opening his eyes and twisting his wrist in the same moment.

Lightning arched from a blue sky, striking slightly to the left of the stump Zeddicus had set as his target.

Zedd was about to suggest ways to improve his aim when Darken tightened his jaw, his fingers curling into a fist.

Lightning scorched the air again, this time blowing the stump to splinters, the clap of thunder that followed like a death knell.

  
"You're learning quickly," Zedd said.

"Much of the theory was taught to me in my youth," was the quiet reply.

Their eyes met, and Zedd was filled with doubt at the fire that burned in the gaze of his pupil. Fire was a dangerous affinity, a lustful passion that consumed all.

He would know.

"Destructive forces are easy to summon," Zedd cautioned, "but difficult to control. And true power…" His gaze turned heavenward. "True power lies in healing."

Reminding himself to flow like water[v], Darken called the lightning down, setting the wasted spit of land they practiced on ablaze. Before the fire could rage out of control, Darken extinguished it with a motion, growing comfortable at last with the push and pull of his han.

"True power," he mused aloud. "I suppose that is a matter of opinion."

Zedd frowned.

"Hali –"

"Hali is dead," Darken intoned, voice harsh, his frustration getting the better of him.

Clouds began to gather overhead. Praying to the Creator for patience, Zedd pointed upwards to show Darken his control was slipping.

He had such doubt.

**-l-**

Brother Gudrun led the chosen village girls into the meadow selected as the location for the Rite of the Goddess.

"Tyrn has blessed us with more of his divine children," he said to the girls gently. "And now they will choose which of you are worthy of serving our divine master. Come forward, and be judged."

The girls ranged from the grubby poor to the well-dressed daughters of the village headman. Their parents waited on the edge of the meadow, ready to bear witness to either their daughter's shame or elevation into the ranks of the Sisterhood of the Goddesses.

Five creatures that appeared to be white horses at first glance emerged from the trees at the opposite end of the meadow. Every single heart skipped a beat, a collective hush as all forgot to breathe.

"They're so beautiful," whispered the miller's wife.

One of the older maids, sure of her success, or perhaps mesmerized by the beauty of the unicorns, ran forward to meet them.

She got close enough to touch before they converged on her, ramming her with their wickedly sharp horns, trampling her body as her blood flew through the air.

"She has been found unworthy," Brother Gudrun said unnecessarily.

No one moved.

The girl's mother cried. Her father spat, torn between sorrow and embarrassment.

"She doubted the gods. Her soul was impure."

The unicorns examined the remaining girls. No others were killed, though they were viciously warned away.

At last, five were chosen and stood standing with a hand on their new companion.

"Welcome," Brother Gudrun said, though he, too, kept his distance. "Be true to your godly guardian, and go forth to do the work of Tyrn."

* * *

**Chapter 37: Fear**

* * *

"Kahlan," Richard called as he broke into a light run to catch up with her before she entered the stables, "I haven't gotten to see much of you lately."

He didn't say _because of the unicorn._

She turned, her face blank before wrinkling into a frown. "You're wearing his crest."

Richard looked down at his clothes, the red vest bearing the eagle crest of the House going well with his black breeches. It was simpler than his brother's robes, which he appreciated.

"It's my crest too," he said softly.

He reached out to brush his knuckles over Kahlan's cheek and her face cleared, her hand coming up to cover his.

  
"Richard?"

"Kahlan, what is it?"

"I need to go see Sepina. She gets lonely."

"Kahlan, you spend every waking minute with her. I'm sure she'll be fine for a little while." His voice broke with a desperation he had been trying hard to deny. "I miss you."

She stared.

Impulsively, he leaned forward and kissed her. Suddenly she was alive with passion, her arms twining around him. She clung to him, and he to her, as if they were two vines meant to grow together.

Just as abruptly as it had started, it ended with Kahlan pushing him away.

"The prophecy," she said through clenched teeth as if she fought for every word uttered.

"You can't hurt me, Kahlan. I can't possibly love you more than I do. And if you are meant to have a son –"

"Go!" she cut him off, turning her back.

As he walked away, dejected, Kahlan's breath returned to normal, her eyes going dull. She made her way to Sepina's stall.

**-l-**

The Mord'Sith and those who served in their temple on the palace grounds grew used to the sight of Lord Rahl's sister. She was often about, whether she was following Mistress Haden or First Mistress Cara. She had become a fixture in the palace. Though it had only been a short time, if asked the denizens of the palace would swear that Jennsen Rahl had always lived there.

And in fact, she felt that way. She was comfortable with the way the palace worked, she had made friends with the kitchen staff and the laundry maids, and she was safe from even the most unscrupulous soldier due to her status and popularity.

  
There was only one person she was not comfortable around, and that was her brother, Darken Rahl.

She was not sure what she feared more. That she would find she loved him, or that he was the monster the world painted him as.

And then there was the secret she carried. She doubted she could hide anything from that piercing gaze. It reminded her of the books she had read of times when dragons still flew the skies.

It was said that entire populations stood still as their livestock was devoured, all caught in the hypnotizing swirl of the dragon's enormous eye.

"Help me pull this tight," Cara said from across the chamber.

She had begun to spend more and more nights in her old rooms in the temple as her condition became more difficult to hide at close quarters.

Darken did not seem troubled by it.

She did not know if he sought pleasurable company elsewhere. She did not ask. She didn't want to know.

In the end it didn't matter. He would return to her.

He always did.

Jennsen picked up the protective corset that Mord'Sith traditionally wore over their abdomens, just beneath the breasts. It would do much to hide the swell highlighted by the red leather bodysuit Cara wore.

"Are you sure?" Jennsen asked. "I don't think it can be good for you."

"Are you a midwife?" Cara inquired irritably, rolling her eyes. "Just help me put it on."

"I'm the closest thing you've got," Jennsen retorted without venom. She began to fasten the buckles and straps, though she determinedly left a half-inch of breathing room in each one.

"Cara, you really should tell someone. I only know what I picked up from all the resistance fighters who hid me, and you can't hide it forever."

"I can hide it long enough," was Cara's retort. She eyed the small redheaded woman who had inexplicably become her friend, then said, "I sent Aliandra away, as you asked."

Jennsen made a non-committal sound, at odds with herself over the favors she had asked in exchange for her silence.

  
When had she become this person?

An image of Mistress Denna flashed through her mind, her own voice bargaining for her mother's life.

Maybe she had always been Jennsen Rahl.

"The other thing you asked for will arrive soon," Cara went on. She cut herself off, a peculiar look coming over her face.

  
Recognizing the signs, Jennsen rushed to get the basin they kept on hand, getting it to Cara just in time for the Mord'Sith to be violently ill.

"I'll go get some water," Jennsen said once Cara had stopped heaving. "There's some in your hair."

Cara wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then pinched the bridge of her nose. Jennsen pushed her hair away from her pale face.

A Mord'Sith burst into the room, eyes going wide to see Lady Rahl standing so close to the First Mistress, face turned up and hands tangled in blond hair.

"What is it?" Cara snapped.

Jennsen wrinkled her nose at the vomit-scented air that wafted over her face.

"An urgent message from Mistress Bronwyn, the caravan bringing Lord Rahl's gold here has been attacked."

"Get Lord Rahl–both of them–and Zedd. _Now_."

Cara stepped back from Jennsen, going to the wall that was covered in racks of weapons.

"You can't go."

Cara selected a crossbow from the wall.

"What if something happens?" Jennsen put her hands on her hips.

Sometimes she thought she was the only one in the entire castle that had any sense.

"We need that gold to pay our soldiers. We need the soldiers to reclaim the territories and protect our people. Go get Haden and Kahlan. I'll meet you in the council chamber."

Face red, but knowing she wouldn't get anywhere if she argued, Jennsen turned to go.

So quiet, she almost didn't hear it, Cara said, "Jennsen? Thank you."

* * *

 

  
**Chapter 38: Resolve**   


  


* * *

Darken thundered into the council chamber, Zedd right behind him. A quick glance showed that Haden, Cara, Richard, Kahlan, and Jennsen were already there.

  
He eyed Jennsen, a fleeting curiosity as to what purpose she served in a council of war passing through his mind, but he dismissed it. She was a Rahl, and she seemed to wish to attend.

  
He knew what it was to be excluded by those who considered you unworthy or less than useful. He very deliberately did not look at the Mother Confessor. Jennsen could stay, if that was what she truly wished. It made no difference to him.

  
Jennsen crossed the room, standing on her tiptoes to whisper something in Cara's ear. Cara whispered back.

  
Darken frowned.

  
"What is so urgent that it demands a council of war?"

  
Cara nodded to Richard, who turned to his brother, face grim.

  
"We have word that the caravan bringing the gold to pay the soldiers has been attacked. Mistress Bronwyn managed to send a message by journey book."

  
"Where is the book?" Darken asked, even as he appreciated the way Richard had begun to grow into his position as adviser and general.

  
Who knows, by the end of this war, they might even be friends.

  
Shaking those ridiculous musings from his mind, Darken accepted the journey book that Haden brought to him.

  
"Zeddicus, there is a spell of location that I have read of," Darken began.

  
"Of course! We can trace the origin of the blood. If she is still alive and in the same area…"

  
"What do we need?"

  
Zedd brought his hand to his chin, his brow wrinkled as he thought. "The page, and salt. The rest is simply having the power and knowing the incantation."

  
Darken gestured at Haden with two fingers. She inclined her head, then strode from the room.  
Darken tore the page from the book, handing it to Zedd.

  
"I will need your help, my boy, if we are to transport all of us."

  
"Not all of us," Jennsen corrected. "The magic won't work on me, and Cara should stay here."  
Silence met that pronouncement.

  
"The palace needs a commander," Jennsen frowned, eyes on Cara.

  
"The palace needs a Rahl," was Cara's retort.

  
Darken watch the interchange, not entirely sure he approved of the depth of feeling there.  
"I'll stay," Kahlan spoke, the first thing she had said since entering the room, "and advise Jennsen. She is Lady Rahl. The people will follow her if necessary."

  
Kahlan's voice was flat, without inflection. Her eyes were dull. Darken put it down to her dislike of him. Perhaps she was attempting to be civil, and listless was as close as she could come.

  
Richard opened his mouth just as Haden returned with a bag of salt. Darken cut him off before he could speak, making decisions quickly.

  
"Sister, you will stay here to lead the palace with the Mother Confessor and Haden to advise you. Brother, gather a quad of your finest men to accompany us. Cara, Zeddicus, and I will await you in my practice room."

  
He made eye contact with Cara, and she nodded, approving of his plan.

  
In the excitement and urgency of planning, Darken never noticed that he had yet to put his Rada Han back on, and the skies remained clear.

**-l-**

Freya Kate watched all through Kahlan Amnell's eyes in a basin of water. Sepina had merged their consciousnesses to the point that she did not have to be in contact with the Confessor to see and hear all that she did.

  
Knowing that the undesirables leaving their stronghold was important, she waved a hand over the water to clear the vision from its depths, then hoisted her skirts and went to fetch Brother Jarl.

**-l-**

"You trust Kahlan to watch over D'Hara in your absence?" Cara questioned as she walked with Darken to his practice room, where he and Zedd would perform the spell of location and transportation.

  
"In _our_ absence," Darken corrected. "Were you staying, you would have command, as you well know."

  
"Perhaps your trust will be returned. Kahlan will see the faith you have put in her."

  
Darken snorted.

  
"She has forgiven me, and even become my…comrade, despite the fact that I ended her sister's life with this." She placed a gloved hand on the top of one of her Agiels.

  
Darken increased his pace, his boots making hard staccato beats against the floor. "Why is it," he said, voice tightly controlled, little tingles of static electricity sparking over his skin, "that everyone seems to think I must earn her forgiveness? Do they all forget she is the same woman who has stolen the will of countless soldiers and deprived me of my best wizard?"

  
Cara smiled at him, giving him a look that told him they both knew he was wishing for a thing that would never be.

  
He cut his eyes away from her, watching her from his periphery vision. "Jennsen seemed quite adamant that you remain here. She seems very fond of you."

  
Sensing a trap, Cara said, "She is sentimental."

  
"And quite attached to you," he replied, tone dark.

  
Cara made a noncommittal noise.

  
"You've begun wearing your corset again."

  
"We're at war."

  
"You haven't been staying in my rooms."

  
Mischief crawled across her expression, her eyes sparking despite the probable danger they walked into. "Have you missed me?"

  
Darken stopped, gripping her hand to pull her close. "You know I have."

  
He began to slide his arm around her waist. She flinched, pulling away.

  
"We have gold to save," she covered as she began to march down the hall once more.

  
Darken grit his teeth, a boiling cauldron of anger covering a deep seated fear buried in his heart.  
Cara was his. His alone. He cared not if she indulged her appetites with one of her subordinates, or even a maid she had taken a fancy to.

  
But to prefer another's _touch_ to his…

  
He would find out exactly what her relationship with Jennsen was.

  
And he would resolve it to his satisfaction.

  
A thunderclap made him realize his magic was leaking.

  
He eased the iron grip he was keeping on his emotions, allowing them to range briefly across his face and through his soul.

  
The rain stopped.

  
But the storm had just begun.

* * *

**Chapter 39: Influence**

* * *

Zeddicus drew a circle of salt, mouthing a simple purification incantation that even Darken had learned back in the before time when his han was like a raindrop in a thimble. The salt limited their sphere of influence. That was something Darken was learning with his newfound, mysteriously greater han.

  
His magic was powerful enough to affect things far beyond his spells.

  
Richard and the quad of soldiers they were bringing with them were already inside the circle. Darken and Cara stepped in as Zedd closed it.

  
"Have you memorized the spell, my boy?"

  
Darken suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at being called "boy," but nodded in the affirmative.  
He and Zeddicus joined hands, the paper on which Bronwyn had inscribed her cry for help in her own blood on the floor between them.

  
"Remember, like water," Zedd muttered as they both closed their eyes, inhaling deeply through their noses.

  
Melding their magic was like the push and pull of the sea, a steady rocking back and forth, an exchange of knowledge for power.

  
They exhaled, the paper disappearing in a flash of green. Together, they spoke the words of the spell. Darken's hair whipped across his face by the force of their magic, his head thrown back as the power was drawn from him.

  
It was an excellent feeling, like the stretching of a long dormant muscle that he had not known was stiff. When he opened his eyes, they were in a forest overshadowed by a mountain. He felt as if his skin fit properly for the first time in months.

  
Zeddicus staggered, dragging on Darken's arms.

  
"Zedd!" Richard shouted, alarmed.

  
The old wizard waved off their concern, saying, "I should have taken more power from Darken. I didn't want to overwhelm him, but it seems," he took a deep breath, "that I am the one who has suffered."

  
"Did something go wrong?" Cara inquired quietly, already scanning the trees, crossbow held at her hip.

  
"I thought I had calculated for eight people, but with this distance… It took more to maintain the gateway than I thought."

  
Cara pursed her lips, carefully looking away.

  
Darken was about to question her, sensing she was hiding something when Richard said, "Brother, over there!"

  
Five wagons were overturned or damaged beyond repair, horses lying dead in the harness. Grisly stacks of leather-clad body parts scattered the surrounding area, the leather filled with enormous teeth marks.

  
Darken was startled when Cara retched into the bushes. Her stomach was usually stronger than that.

  
"I knew her well," she said by way of explanation when she had finished, somehow pale and blushing at the same time.

  
Darken started to reach out to her before stopping himself.

  
He did not think he could contain his anger if she were to reject his touch in front of the men.

  
Someone would die for it.

  
Richard climbed atop one of the overturned carts, pulling back the covering tied over the top to reveal shattered wooden trunks, bright yellow gold coins spilling forth into the sunlight.

  
Bewildered, Richard looked up. "They didn't take the gold."

  
Suddenly on high alert, Darken directed two of the soldiers and Richard to begin stacking the gold in one pile for transport back to the palace. The other two soldiers he sent to look for survivors.

  
Zedd helped free the gold from the wagons, levitating trunks and coins to the center of the path that cut through the woods.

  
Darken and Cara stood on opposite sides of the road, peering into the trees, senses alert for any disturbance.

  
Cara felt as if they were separated by a gorge. He was angry, she could tell, and would drift from her. But she could not tell him – she would allow no other the honor of protecting him.

  
The duty of protecting him.

  
The opportunity to fail.

  
_Cara knelt on the steps of the Pillars of Creation in a pool of blood two inches thick, unable to do anything but mourn._

  
From the trees, Skull watched the odd pack. He smelled magic. So much magic. He remembered walking on two feet.

  
He thought he did.

  
Shaking his large head, he turned to his mate, the twitch of his nose and bristling of his whiskers telling her all she needed to know.

  
There was a howl, a swish, a snap, muffled grunts.

  
Cara whirled, her crossbow at the ready.

  
Richard, Zedd, and the soldiers began to work faster.

  
Cautiously, Darken moved toward the sounds. They came from the direction his men had taken.  
He realized that he couldn't hear any insects, birds calling, rodents rustling. All of the creatures of the woods were dead silent.

  
"They didn't want the gold," he whispered with sudden insight. "They wanted the Mord'Sith."

  
"Cara!" he turned just in time to see an enormous hellhound leap at her. She fired her crossbow bolt up and at an angle, taking it in the heart, but even dead, the creature would crush her.

  
Darken extended a hand, no spell, no thought on his mind except _Save Cara._

  
Wizard's Fire did not stream from his palm, he did not call lightning. The wolf simply exploded, shredded by the force of Darken's rage.

  
Darken closed his fist, moving it sharply to the side to prevent Cara from being covered in the beast's entrails. He was uncertain whether its innards would have poisonous effects.

  
Cara did not spare him a glance, already reloading her crossbow as she backed toward the pile of gold.

  
Zeddicus was shouting something, Darken couldn't make out what.

  
More howling and rustling came from the forest. They were surrounded.

  
A wall of magic, a barrier sprung up all around them, higher than the wolves could jump.

  
"I can't hold the wall and do the transportation!" Zeddicus shouted over the sound of the pack in full cry, the sizzle as the wolves tested the barrier.

  
Panicking but trying not to, Darken held his hands up, palm up, inhaling deeply as he began the incantation.

  
Cara placed her hand on the back of his neck, a brief touch, but an infinitely reassuring one.

  
Darken found his center.

  
With a crack, they were gone just as the barrier gave way – the treasure, and all the humans.

  
And Skull.

  
Darken had not had time to make a circle of salt.

* * *

**Chapter 40: Vendetta**

* * *

Jennsen stayed in the council room with Haden and Kahlan, an awkward tension filling the air.

  
"Is there anything I need to do?" she asked, unsure of what managing the palace actually entailed.

  
"No," was Haden's reply, "there are standing orders to follow. Unless something happens, you shouldn't have to do anything."

  
"Oh," Jennsen said, relieved.

  
Kahlan remained silent.

  
Jennsen fidgeted with her dress, then her hair, giving Haden a clear view of the fading yellow bruise on her wrist.

  
She pulled Jennsen's hand gently into her own, not noticing the blush on the redhead's cheeks.

  
"Who did this?"

  
Jennsen bit her lip, unknowingly teasing the Mord'Sith mercilessly.

  
"Was it Rahl?" came Kahlan's flat voice, her face animated with something indescribable. It was an expression of agony, out of place in the conversation.

  
"Lord Rahl would not harm Lady Jennsen," Haden said angrily before Jennsen could demur.

  
Lord Rahl _would not_ harm Lady Jennsen. Neither of them. Not while Haden breathed.

  
It was a Mord'Sith's duty to serve a Rahl. Haden had been trained and sworn to Darken.

  
But her heart had chosen Jennsen.

  
Haden turned her attention back to Jennsen, though she kept the Confessor in her periphery vision. Those cold eyes made her skin crawl. She had always found Confessors to be unsettling, but Kahlan Amnell was the most unsettling Haden had ever come across.

  
Her and her damn unicorn.

  
"Who did this?" Haden asked again, somehow harsh and gentle all at once.

  
"Cara," Jennsen whispered.

  
Haden frowned.

  
"No, no, it wasn't like that!" Jennsen hastened to reassure her. "Cara just got a bit carried away, and –"

  
Haden released Jennsen's arm as if it were a fiery brand. She didn't need to hear any more.  
Mistress Cara had a reputation.

  
"I will see that the men are being drilled properly," Haden said, refusing to sound abnormal, forcing the words past a thick tongue.

  
She bowed, fist over her heart, and then quit the room.

  
What a fool she was.

  
"I worry about the fate of the territories," Kahlan said hollowly, "when the force for good is so brutal as to harm one another." She approached, running fingers over Jennsen's bruise.

  
Jennsen smiled awkwardly, unwilling to be drawn into Kahlan's vendetta.

  
She shivered despite the heat.

**-l-**

Haden was making her way to the training grounds when she was blown backwards by a sudden explosion of air, a sonic boom deafening her as her head cracked against the wall. She slumped to the flagstones, unconscious.

  
A mound of gold coins made bright pinging sounds against the stone of the courtyard as Darken opened his eyes, burying his desperate hope that he had performed the spell correctly under a veneer of cool competence.

  
Of course everything had gone as planned. He was Lord Rahl.

  
That was when he found a pair of yellow eyes watching him from atop the mound of treasure.  
Skull's tongue hung from his mouth, his nose working as he tried to understand what had happened, where his pack was. To the humans, it seemed he was smiling, his jaws bared in a feral grin.

  
Scenting magic, he lunged.

  
Richard leapt into action, pushing Zedd out of the way of the massive wolf. He didn't have time to draw the Sword of Truth, instead putting his fists together to swing into the beast's jaw.  
It turned away, shaking its muzzle. Richard had a feeling he had hurt himself more than the creature. It was easily big enough to ride, as tall at the shoulder as a warhorse.

  
He drew the Sword of Truth and waited.

  
The wolf stared at him, its nose quivering as it eyed the sword.

  
Its ears pricked up and it charged again, this time at Cara. She held her ground, ducking at the last moment, the monster sailing over her head. She took aim with her crossbow, intent on taking the creature down, when a rope of dark purple light fell over the wolf, followed by another.  
Turning, Cara saw Darken slashing his hands through the air in a complicated motion, his jaw clenched and his eyes glittering as he concentrated.

  
Zedd attempted to help in the weaving of the Sorcerer's Net, but Darken was not yet skilled enough to share the work with another wizard. They fouled each other's efforts and the wolf broke free, blurring invisibly to appear on top of Darken.

  
Man and wolf rolled, Darken maintaining an impossibly desperate grip on the jaws of the wolf to keep them from closing on his face, all of his spells unraveling before he could finish them, all his concentration needed to keep himself alive.

  
The rest looked on, unable to help lest they accidentally hurt Darken.

  
Soldiers and Mord'Sith came running, Jennsen at their head.

  
"Brother!" she cried, the first time she had publicly acknowledged their relation.

  
Carelessly, without thought or skill, she threw herself into the fray, a half dozen voices crying, "Jennsen, no!"

  
There was the sound of tearing fabric and a line of blood appeared on Jennsen's thigh from scrabbling claws. It was a wonder she was not crushed as she clung to the wolf's back as it rolled.  
When the wolf was upright once more, Jennsen was stretched out across its back, clinging to something that no one else could see. She pulled back and the wolf choked, giving Darken the breathing space he needed.

  
He gestured. Nothing happened.

  
Realizing what was wrong, Cara cried, "Jennsen, get off! You're blocking his magic!"

  
Mouth agape, Jennsen threw herself free.

  
One last twisted hand gesture and the best was motionless, suspended in Wizard's Web.

  
There were a few beats of silence.

  
Then Cara ran forward, pulling Darken from beneath the wolf, her hands on his cheeks as he straightened.

  
He kissed her, and everything was as it should be.

  
For a few moments.

  
"Lesson number twenty," Zedd interrupted to Darken's displeasure, "difficult magic is not better magic. You should have used the Web before you even attempted the Net."

  
Darken gritted his teeth, angry to be corrected before those he was supposed to rule. Zedd continued to smile blandly.

  
Darken nodded curtly, just to get him to stop.

  
"What's that thing around his neck?" Jennsen asked a bit dazedly as she dusted herself off.

  
"What thing?" Richard said, looking from Jennsen to the wolf, and back again. "And why didn't you just kill it?" he addressed to Darken. "You blew that other one up."

  
"Why didn't _you_ just kill it?" Darken returned irritably, swaying on his feet. "As I recall, I have just transported us over fifty leagues, _twice_ , and killed one of the other ones. All you've done is stack boxes."

  
Smiling as he realized Darken was teasing him, whether he realized it or not, Richard returned, "Well, the boxes were heavy."

  
Cara and Darken snorted in unison.

  
"Excuse me," Jennsen said loudly, tired of being ignored, " _what is that thing_ around its neck?"

**-l-**

Skull watched the humans after he became aware of himself again. They milled around the magicsmell walls that kept him in.

  
The small female could see his yoke, his chains.

  
If only he could make her understand.

  
"We'll keep it alive. You will study it, Zeddicus," came the voice that belonged to the darkbigmagic.

  
That male was their alpha. Skull knew.

  
One wolf recognized another.

  
He rolled to show his underside, his willingness to submit, his desire to be one with their pack.  
And to get his revenge on the one that enslaved him.

  
But they didn't understand.

* * *

**Chapter 41: Ballad**

* * *

Jennsen had been relieved when Cara and the others had returned unharmed, but alarmed to find Haden had been hurt in the scuffle with the wolf that now slept in a magically reinforced cell of the dungeons.

  
Worse, Haden seemed to be avoiding her.

  
Jennsen had not noticed right away, in her anxiety about Cara's health. It was suffocating to be the only one who knew such a massive secret. The weight of it dragged at her.

  
She couldn't imagine how Cara felt.

  
But once she had assured herself that Cara was fine as far as she could tell, Jennsen had gone to visit Haden.

  
And been turned away.

  
She had assumed that Haden was resting – healing.

  
But every time Jennsen had sought her out, Haden eluded her.

  
She was determined to find her today. The favor she had asked of Cara, a gift for Haden, to celebrate her promotion, had finally arrived.

  
Haden was at the training grounds with Richard.

  
"You will come with me," Jennsen said in her very best imitation of Cara.

  
Haden and Richard exchanged a look, Richard shrugged, and Haden followed Jennsen to the mews where the royal hunting birds were kept.

  
"I didn't know you were interested in falconry," Haden said, for once uncomfortable with the silence.

  
"I'm not," Jennsen bit her lip, "but I thought that you liked birds. You carved me a bird, and you talk about them…"

  
Haden blinked.

  
"I-I asked Cara to get me something. For you. To get me something for you."

  
Jennsen pointed to a hawk standing on a large perch, jesses trailing from its legs. It was fiercely beautiful, a dark rich black with wings the color of sunset, a white ring on its tail.

  
A Dusky Hawk.

  
"One of the wolves of the sky," Haden breathed in awe.

  
They were so rare, so prized by nobles.

  
She narrowed her eyes.

  
So expensive, so awe inspiring.

  
The perfect way to placate a retainer.

  
"I'm confused," Haden said bluntly. "Why are you bringing me gifts when it is known throughout the temple that you are in love with Mistress Cara?"

  
Jennsen laughed, wildly amused, then sobered at the look on Haden's face. "You're serious?"

  
"You were seen together," the dark haired Mord'Sith replied, an angry flush spreading over her cheeks.

  
"By who, and what did they see?" Jennsen asked, hands on hips.

  
"One of my Sisters saw you embracing our Mistress. You spend much time in her company."  
Haden studied the hawk.

  
"So I must be having an affair?" Jennsen was incredulous, two spots of color appearing high on her cheeks. "How absurd, Haden! What would Cara be doing with me when she's having –"

  
Haden snapped her gaze to Jennsen's face, "Having what?"

  
Scrambling to cover, Jennsen replied, "When she has such strong feelings for R- Lord Rahl?"

  
They were quiet for a time, Haden watching her hawk, Jennsen gazing out over the field.

  
Kahlan and Sepina appeared in the field beyond the mews, twin points of white in the distance, growing ever closer.

  
"You can't get near the unicorn. Why?" Haden said into Jennsen's ear, causing her to start with fright.

  
"Why does accepting a gift require an inquisition?" Jennsen retorted, her tone and words oddly resembling something Darken Rahl would say.

  
Haden frowned, looking away.

  
Jennsen hesitated, then said, "There was a girl in my village, back before all of this started. Before I knew I was a Rahl, before I knew there was such a thing as being pristinely ungifted. She said," Jennsen stopped, blushing, "that her older sister had told her terrible stories of how much it hurt to be with a man the first time, and that it would be easier if we…practiced."

  
Haden felt her lips curl into a wide smile, the motion strange on her face.

  
"You practiced?"

  
Ashamed, fearful of what Haden would think of her, Jennsen kept her eyes firmly on the ground.

  
"And there is nothing between you and Mistress Cara?"

  
"No."

  
Jennsen looked up, hoping to explain, but was prevented when Haden leaned down, pressing their lips together in a kiss.

  
Leather-clad arms wrapped around her, pressing against her silk gown, a gloved hand teasing the ends of her hair.

  
It was not her first kiss, but it was certainly her best.

  
So far.

  
Jennsen clung to Haden, forgetting where they were, forgetting all of the reasons what they were doing should be wrong.

  
Surely the Creator could do nothing but approve of something that brought such happiness.  
Haden pulled her face back, only to see Jennsen pout. "Thank you for the hawk, Sparrow. I love it."

  
She bit Jennsen's protruding lower lip.

  
Jennsen would learn what expressions were forbidden to cross her lovely features. Haden would train her.

  
Gesturing to the hawk, Haden said, "I will name her Red Wolf in honor of you."

  
"Red Wolf?" Jennsen asked, trying to gather her addled wits.

  
"You haven't heard? Your daring rescue of your brother has inspired much admiration among the soldiers that witnessed it. Even now they sing a ballad of the Red Wolf of Rahl," Haden teased.

  
"But I didn't rescue him."

  
"The song they're singing tells of the Red Wolf and the Black Hawk, and how together they defeated the Grey Jaws of Death."

  
Jennsen gaped, agog at the grandiose language.

  
Haden chuckled, a deep rich sound that Jennsen liked, then began to sing lowly:

  
_When the Black Hawk was downed,_   
_His wings all but crushed,_   
_There came the Red She Wolf_   
_In a gloried wild rush_   
_The Grey Jaws of Death_   
_Were denied their evening meal_   
_As the Red Wolf sat astride their back_   
_And the Hawk brought them to heel._

  
"That's just silly, and not how it happened at all," Jennsen laughed, shyly leaning further into Haden's embrace.

  
"It's how the men sing it when they sit about and drink."

  
"You have a nice voice," interrupted Kahlan, her own voice hollow.

  
They had been so wrapped up in one another that they did not notice her approach.

  
"I haven't sung since my Sister, Mord'Sith Bekah, died."

  
Her head tilted strangely to the side, the Confessor asked, "How did she die?"

  
Leveling a stare on the Mother Confessor, face and tone completely neutral, Haden answered, "You killed her."

  
Kahlan blinked, her face twitching before settling back into a mask. "Oh," she said, then smiled a horribly vacant smile. "I'm sorry."

* * *

**Chapter 42: Need**

* * *

Darken sat in the council chamber, going over the accounting of the gold they had managed to retrieve, attempting to set a wage for the soldiers that would both satisfy them and allow Darken to stretch his wealth as far as possible. With trade routes plagued by those thrice damned wolves, it was difficult to raise any funds for the revitalization of D'Hara.

  
He had not yet sent any of his forces to retake the villages and kingdoms that refused to accept his rule once more. He didn't have the men.

  
And he wanted the people to come to him.

  
Cara entered the chamber as he looked up, Jennsen on her heels. The pair of them had done nothing but fuss ever since his little brush with the grey wolf.

  
If what Cara did could be called fussing. Darken supposed you would have to know her well to realize that she kept finding excuses to look over his shoulder, to touch his face, the back of his neck.

  
She held him close and at arm's length all at once. It was incredibly frustrating, and to his chagrin, Darken found his thoughts kept drifting to it when he should be focused on a host of other things: this war that wasn't a war, the wolf in the dungeons, improving his control over his magic…  
Jennsen set a tray down on the table, two pots of tea, several cups, and a platter of meats, cheeses, and fruit visible on the silver surface. She poured tea for the three of them, chattering all the while.

  
Darken had yet to discover whether she chattered at him because he made her nervous, or because she had grown comfortable with him. But as she handed him a cup of tea, her small white fingers grazing his, he found he did not mind.

  
It was nice to be fussed over.

  
To a certain point.

  
"Sister," he interrupted her bright, off key humming, "why have you made two pots of tea?"

  
Anything to make her stop before she had infected his mind with that tune. It was enough that the soldiers were continually singing of the Red Wolf, he didn't need to hear it in his thoughts.

  
"Oh… The tea in the red pot is Cara's favorite," Jennsen said, giving Cara a significant look.

  
Picking up on the cue, Cara said, "Yes. It's a brew I hadn't had until Jennsen began making it for me. It's very good."

  
She moved to sit across from Darken, nonchalantly dragging a pile of papers toward her.

  
Fearful that she would give something away if truly questioned, Jennsen beat a hasty retreat. "I'll see if Grandfather needs any help with the wolf."

  
She shut the door quietly behind her, the soft sound of wood meeting stone lingering in the room.

  
"Cara," Darken said, having given up on the accounting reports for the time being, "what is the nature of your friendship with my sister?"

  
"With Jennsen?" Cara kept her face down, eyes on the paper in front of her.

  
She could fool many, but never Darken. He would read the panic in her face.

  
"You once had a …special friendship with Dahlia. Is it the same with Jennsen?"

  
Oh. Was that what he was worried about?

  
How odd.

  
An incredulous look lighting her features, Cara met his eyes at last. "Are you jealous?"

  
A muscle twitched in his jaw.

  
"Should I be?"

  
He was mistaken. Nevertheless, knowing that he cared enough for her to want to keep her for himself… it eased a great burden Cara had not known she carried as a tightly held fear melted away.

  
He had not clung to her on their travels simply because she was the only woman available. Here in the People's Palace, with any number of willing maids and Mord'Sith waiting to fall at his feet, he wanted to know if Cara was having a romance with his sister.

  
And he was jealous.

  
"I am nothing more than friends with Jennsen, as delectable as she is," Cara answered mischievously, enjoying the way his eyes snapped, the only indication of his unsettled state. "But even if we were more…would it matter?"

  
She had meant to tease.

  
She found her heart beat faster as she waited for his answer.

  
Thunder cracked, rain falling from the clear sky in a deluge.

  
"You're not wearing the Rada Han," she whispered.

  
"You are mine," he replied as he closed his eyes.

  
The rain stopped. When he opened his eyes, the storm was inside them.

  
"Perhaps I am tired of belonging," Cara snapped, though she wasn't certain why. This was what she wanted, for Darken to desire her, to want her to be his.

  
So why was she so angry?

  
Darken slowly sat back in his chair, lifting his hand to rub at his lips as he watched her.

  
"You are Mord'Sith," he said musingly, almost as if he were discovering the fact for the first time. "You all belong to me, you most of all, First Mistress."

  
Teeth bared in a feral display, Cara retorted, "I am more than Mord'Sith. Traveling with Richard taught me that."

  
The thunder was back, though this time it was in Darken's voice and the way he banged his fists against the tabletop as he exploded, standing to lean over the table, "You are my family!"

  
Images of a woman in red surrounded in red, a knife in her hands, Hali with the Sword of Truth through her heart, Cara leaving him for another…

  
They always left him.

  
But no more. He wouldn't allow it.

  
Voice a strangled whisper, Cara spat, "Richard, Kahlan, Zedd, and Jennsen are _my_ family!"

  
Masculine hands gripped her face, nails digging into the flesh of her cheeks as she was pulled forward, the edge of the table digging uncomfortably into her swollen belly, still hidden beneath her corset.

  
Lips a hair's breadth from her own, tight with anger, trembling with emotion that he had to let himself feel lest it be expressed through his magic, Darken said, "You will be my wife." His voice was harsh, his tone commanding.

  
He took her lips in a brutal kiss, a clash of tongues and teeth that left her gasping and dizzy. She brought a gloved hand up to grasp his wrist, pulling her face from his grasp and relieving the pressure of the table against her stomach.

  
"A Mord'Sith has never been queen."

  
She didn't know why she was still fighting, only that something ugly lurked in the bottom of her heart, pushing her to sneer and snub.

  
"I will not be denied."

  
She took a step back.

  
"Why?"

  
His eyes glittered, his hands clenching and unclenching as he fought his frustration, a man unused to explaining himself.

  
Voice as velvety as night, yet tumultuous as the storms he kept causing, Darken said, "Because you are mine and everyone should know it. Because D'Hara needs a strong queen."

  
Silence. Then, brokenly, almost inaudible, "Because _I_ need a strong queen."

  
Still, that memory of Kahlan and Darken's tombs in that time that never was, together in stone for all eternity, haunted Cara.

  
What of his desire for a Confessor child? His plans for his heir?

  
"And if I do not wish to marry you?"

  
For a moment, it seemed he would strike her. Then his face cleared into the cunning look Cara knew so well.

  
The look that meant that though his body was there, Darken was leagues away, hiding deeply within his own heart.

  
He smiled an empty razor smile, then turned to leave.

  
Cara's voice stopped him as he was reaching for the door.

  
"I would expect to be your wife in every way."

  
He turned.

  
They stared at one another for an eternity, the room charged with electricity.

  
"Yes."

  
They had just come together, Darken's lips on her throat, Cara's hands in his hair as she opened her mouth to tell him she carried his heir when Richard burst into the room.

  
"Something is wrong with Kahlan!" he said, not even registering what he had interrupted.

  
Face still buried in the junction between Cara's shoulder and her neck, the band of the amulet she wore pressing into his cheek, Darken growled, "You mean more so than usual?"

  
Richard was not amused.

* * *

**Chapter 43: Raw**

* * *

Richard gathered them all into the conference room, save Kahlan, who was presumably out with Sepina.

  
"We've noticed it too," Jennsen said from her position at Haden's side.

  
Darken noted how close they stood and then lifted an eyebrow at Cara, his emotions still raw.

  
She smirked.

  
Manipulative little minx.

  
But he couldn't be angry. Not when he would soon be assured that she would not leave him.  
The ceremony performed to wed the Lord Rahl to his chosen was binding, its only release death's embrace.

  
Richard spoke, bringing Darken out of his thoughts.

  
"Something has happened to her. She doesn't trust anyone, she won't spend any time with me," his voice rose as he continued, his frustration evident.

  
"She's disturbing," Haden said, as blunt as ever.

  
"She's not interested in the plight of the Midlands, or talking of the prophecy. When we were still at Aydindril, it was all she would speak of," Zedd added.

  
"So she did not begin to change until you arrived here?" Darken queried.

  
"Well, she started spending most of her time with Sepina, because no one else can get close to her, but then –"

  
"The unicorn?" Cara interrupted.

  
Richard nodded.

  
"You never told me how you happened to pick up a unicorn," Cara continued. "I assume you saved it from something?" She gave him one of her looks, and Darken was glad to see them being used on someone else.

  
"From monks," Jennsen said, eyes widened in realization.

  
"The same monks that have been appearing right before an area is overrun with wolves," Haden finished, placing a kiss on top of the shorter woman's head.

  
Jennsen blushed, Richard gaped, and Zedd sputtered.

  
Darken acted as if it was commonplace to see a Mord'Sith kiss his sister.

  
"These monks wanted to kill it? Why?"

  
"They said it hunted maidens," Zedd answered, his eyes still on Haden and Jennsen.

  
"And it never occurred to you that they might be right?" Darken gave into the urge to roll his eyes.

  
"It wasn't doing anything to hurt anyone," Richard protested. "And they are the monks who have been seen everywhere that there are wolves, preaching about how magic is evil."

  
"So they set a trap, and you walked into it," Darken retorted, baiting his brother.

  
"We'll know that," Cara said to forestall an argument, hand on her Agiels, "after we kill it."

  
Jennsen and Richard were shocked, then horrified.

  
Haden and Zedd were thoughtful.

  
Darken was proud.

  
Outside the door, Kahlan listened.

**-l-**

Freya Kate fell to the floor, clutching at her cheek where Brother Jarl had struck her.

  
"You stupid woman! Skull captured and our spy found out all within days! Why Tyrn chose to bless you with his gifts, I will never fathom."

  
Kate stayed down, knowing that picking herself up would only anger Jarl more. She held her cheek, already beginning to bruise with the force of the blow. "Tyrn knows best, Brother," she said.

  
Jarl moved to strike her again, but was stopped, his fist caught by Brother Gudrun.

  
Kate watched them, anger burning in her eyes.

  
"Woman are fragile, and should not be abused," Gudrun intoned stiffly. "For even though they are weaker and possess less sense than men, they are the bringers of life. This is the gift Tyrn granted them. Respect it."

  
Jarl turned red, then purple, and then a motley combination of both before his face went white. "You are right, Brother Gudrun. I thank you for helping me to see my error."

  
He pulled his arm from Gudrun's grasp, snapping, "Fix this!" at Kate as he quit the room, his bald head still red with anger.

  
"Are you alright?" Gudrun asked Kate, helping her to stand.

  
His skin tingled where her hands touched.

  
"Thank you," she said shakily.

  
He pushed her hair away from her face, gently grasping her chin and turning it upwards so he could see the bruise.

  
"I have been blessed with a small amount of godly power," Gudrun said, extending a hand to caress her face. "I can help the sting."

  
Kate backed away, turning her back as she pinned her hair back into its proper position. "I have told you, Gudrun. I must stay pure, or Tyrn will take his gifts from me."

  
Gudrun swallowed, enchanted by her delicate white hands as she coiled and pinned her deep black hair.

  
"I love you."

  
"There is no room in my heart for love. I am for Tyrn."

  
Her voice was harsh.

  
It always was.

  
And yet, Gudrun always came to see her when his duties brought him close.

**-l-**

Bronwyn struggled to get up a tree, hoping that the massive hounds had gone. If that was the case, she only had to worry about the natural hunters her blood would bring. Her left leg hung in a tatter of congealing blood and shredded red leather. She had already vomited twice, and even now her limbs shook with shock.

  
She had lost her Agiel and her journey book. Her chances of survival were infinitesimal at best.  
But she had survived her trials and emerged at the other side as Mord'Sith, then gone on to attain the rank of mistress.

  
She would not lie down and die.

  
How long had she been out here?

  
Had she already missed the search party? Had Lord Rahl even sent one?

  
A haze passed over her eyes, bands of light that took the world out of focus as a film of black narrowed her vision to two tiny points of color.

  
She fell backwards out of the tree in a dead faint, heart laboring with blood loss, landing heavily in the underbrush.

  
She still lay that way when Skull's mate found her.

 

 

* * *

**Chapter 44: Transformation**

* * *

Kate brandished the Shakai'ah over the body of the woman her children had brought her, the dragon bone they were made from vibrating in her hands as the woman's very nature fought the transformation Kate sought to bring.

  
Bronwyn struggled groggily, her skin cold. She was lying on stone, her leathers gone.

  
A woman stood over her.

  
Then pain, first a pinprick she barely felt, then brands of fire burning her veins. She shrieked, able to hear her own bones crunching and shifting, blinded by a light that seared her irises, seared her innards.

  
Her skin itched, then burned as her spine twisted. Her mouth exploded with more teeth than it could accommodate, right before her face ballooned outward, forming a muzzle to hold those fangs.

  
Her limbs grew thicker and heavier as she got larger, a spurt of bone shooting from the end of her spine, more painful than the touch of an Agiel as it was wrapped in rapidly growing muscle and skin, and finally, shaggy fur.

  
She convulsed, sure she was going to die, certain that it was the end. Her last breath transformed, becoming a gurgling, guttural choke, then a growl.

  
She howled, blood running from her fur, shedding the red ooze like rainwater.

  
Mother placed something around her neck, and it burned and choked.

  
But then it was gone and she forgot about it.

  
She?

  
Who was she?

  
"Helhati," Mother said, touching her nose.

  
Helhati. She was Helhati.

  
She lazily rolled off the stone table Mother had set her on, instinctively knowing where to find her pack.

  
They surrounded her, sniffing and whining. One by one, they nipped the bottom of her chin, as was proper when greeting an alpha.

  
All except the largest she wolf, the mate of the old alpha. Somehow Helhati knew this.

  
She didn't care how.

  
She growled and bristled.

  
Skull's mate did not submit, not fully. But she did make herself small, lying down to make her head lower than Helhati's.

  
That was good enough for the time being.

  
With whiskers and whines, Helhati told the pack what Mother wanted.

  
And that she knew how to get there.

  
And how to win.

**-l-**

Kahlan was missing. Since their meeting in the council room, when they had decided that Sepina must be dealt with, the Confessor had remained out of reach.

  
She was seen about the palace, but always in passing. The unicorn had not been seen in days.  
It was incredibly frustrating.

  
And…worrisome. Darken frowned, all the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

  
"You must face the fact, brother, that she may have heard us and fled."

  
"Kahlan would never betray us."

  
"Not you, perhaps," Darken said as he cast a spell to enhance his vision, searching the palace grounds from the wall where they stood. "But I doubt she would have any qualms about me."

  
Wearily, Richard answered, "You don't give her enough credit."

  
"Or you give her too much."

  
Richard shot his brother an angry look, then strode away, leaving Darken to search until his eyes fell out.

  
As he entered the tower that opened onto the wall, he was surprised to hear raised voices that he recognized in the corridor.

  
"Cara, you absolutely can't keep doing this!"

  
"My Sisters are in danger! I'm getting the Lords Rahl, and we are answering this insult."

  
Jennsen grabbed Cara's arm, her small hands surprisingly strong. "You're not going. I-I forbid it!"

  
"You forbid me?" Cara's voice was filled with startled incredulity.

  
"I outrank you."

  
"No," Cara smirked, "you don't."

  
Frustrated, in no mood for games, Jennsen stamped her foot. "Do so!"

  
"You may wish to check with your brother," Cara said mysteriously before pulling her arm from Jennsen's grip and continuing past Richard onto the wall.

  
He hid in the shadows, knowing somehow that if she saw him he wouldn't be able to find out what that exchange had been about.

  
"But what about the baby?" he heard Jennsen call.

  
Cara ignored her.

  
But Richard didn't.

  
"Jennsen," she jumped, surprised to see him there, "what baby?"

  
"What baby?" she repeated airily, eyes darting around as if looking for escape.

  
Richard gripped her wrists, pulling her around to force her to look at him, his face black with fury as he thought of the nephew that had been used by the Keeper.

  
And his suspicions of just how the boy had ended up in the Keeper's care.

  
"You're hurting me," Jennsen said quietly, thinking of the stories she had always been told about Darken Rahl.

  
"Jennsen, what baby?"

  
He relaxed his grip, but only marginally. Jennsen tugged at her wrists, her mouth pressed into a white line as her cheeks flushed pink.

  
She looked away, stubbornly refusing to answer.

  
Richard tightened his grip once more, a silent message that neither of them would be going anywhere until she answered.

  
Another moment of stubborn silence, then she looked at him, blue eyes glittering in a way that reminded Richard of their brother.

  
"Cara is with child," she spat. "Now let me go."

  
Richard did, his mind whirling. Hali's words, warning him away from interfering, Zedd's advice to wait until his knowledge mattered, Darken's desperate plea in that tavern all those months ago… He was so afraid of losing her.

  
But what was the right thing?

  
Jennsen rubbed her wrists.

  
"Whose?" Richard's voice shocked him. He hadn't made the conscious decision to speak.

  
Jennsen rolled her eyes, something she had picked up from Cara. "That's a stupid question, Richard."

  
"I have to warn her. In case he does it again. In case he did it the first time." Richard muttered to himself, seeming confused.

  
_The Son of Blood will rise with the howling of wolves and the flight of birds_   
_Doomed love will give him birth, sacrifice his cradle…_

  
"What?" Jennsen touched his shoulder, "You're not making sense."

  
"Darken… he… Cara and Darken had a son, a long time ago. He died. Darken… I think he killed him."

  
Richard had thought it would make him feel better to finally say it aloud.

  
It didn't.

  
Unseen, moving through the palace like a ghost, Kahlan listened.

  
And so did Sepina.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

**Chapter 45: Champion**

* * *

Kahlan drifted, lost, drowning in a dream.

  
_If the Mother Confessor should betray the Son of Blood, the world will fall, all magic erased._

  
The Dreamcaster. The Dreamcaster was good.

  
No. Was that right?

  
Roses and trees, thorny graves, wolves and unicorns all danced around her in a dizzying swirl of foreboding.

  
_You are right. You are the only right. You decide what is right. You have to protect the people from themselves._

  
Insidious voices, hissing serpents, guiding spirits.

  
_The Mother Confessor **should** betray the Son of Blood. The world **should** fall, all magic erased._

  
Kahlan heard and could do nothing but obey, sunk in a fog of self-righteousness, a nightmare of ambiguity. Her hands moved, her lips formed words, but she felt and heard all as if from far away.

  
She was living a dream.

**-l-**

Jennsen rushed to the dungeon where Grandfather studied the wolf creature, her steps quick and yet not quick enough, her hands shaking as she thought of what Richard had told her.

  
Was that the real reason Cara didn't want to tell Darken of her condition? Did she fear?

  
Jennsen couldn't make sense of anything. The things she had always been told formed a completely different world from the one she had experienced, like a badly copied map. The general shape was the same, but when laid side by side the paths to be taken were different.

  
"Amazing," Zedd said to himself as he waved a hand over the prone wolf.

  
It lay docile at his feet, muzzle turned toward him. It was magically restrained, though it made no effort to fight, so massive that even lying down it filled the cell from wall to wall.

  
Jennsen pushed the heavy cell door open, leaving it ajar.

  
"Grandfather," she began.

  
"What is it, child? What has happened?"

  
She did not have a chance to answer, her words cut off by cool sharp steel.

  
Appearing from nowhere oddly like the wolves and the unicorn, Kahlan slid a knife to Jennsen's throat, pulling her roughly back against her body.

  
Surprised, Jennsen let out a squeak, a drop of blood welling along the knife edge.

  
Voice empty and incongruously pleasant, Kahlan said, "Release Skull, please."

  
Zedd stared. Kahlan was clearly in the grip of a powerful magic that he could not even attempt to break so long as she used Jennsen as a shield. His granddaughter's pristine ungift would protect Kahlan from magical attack, and her life would ensure that Zedd did what Kahlan wanted.

  
"Release Skull," she said again, this time more urgently. She gestured at the wolf with her knife.  
Zedd waved his fingers, the bonds holding the massive hell beast to the floor dissolving as he did so.

  
"Kahlan," he attempted to reach her, hoping that her spirit yet lived. "You can fight this. Look at what you're doing. See what you've done to Jennsen's neck?"

  
Kahlan wavered, her grip on the knife loosening.

  
Zedd looked over her shoulder, nodding slightly to the figure that had appeared in the doorway.  
All in the same moment, Jennsen stomped down hard on Kahlan's foot, wishing she was wearing something more substantial than slippers. Haden dove into the room to pull Kahlan's head back with a fistful of hair, an Agiel thrust into the Confessor's neck, and Kahlan screamed, pointing at Skull.

  
"Jennsen, Zedd, run!" Haden shouted, twisting and pulling to keep the Confessor's hands from her flesh, her Agiel whining high and loud as she caught sight of the blood at Jennsen's throat.

  
Skull remained laying down, gazing pleadingly at the little red female from one of his great yellow eyes, imploring her to remove his chains, the unseen yoke that bound him to Mother's will.

  
But Mother called through the white unicorn woman, and Skull had to obey, whining as his flesh was burned, his bones aching as he fought the pull of the bond.

  
To Jennsen's eyes, the black band of metal carved with runes that surrounded the massive wolf's neck seemed to grow smaller, glowing red-hot, then deep green with the fires of the underworld.

  
Dragon fire.

  
Skull whined and gave in, wanting survival more than freedom. He would do as Mother wished before his fetters tore him apart.

  
He lunged at the wizard, long legs unfolding, jaws opened wide.

  
Kahlan fell to her knees in the doorway, veins highlighted in black as the Agiel burned pain through her body.

  
She didn't know how she had gotten there, didn't know where she was, didn't know why she was being attacked.

  
She rolled, pulling her assailant down with her, mind clear for the first time in she didn't know how long. She reached for skin, any skin, her power at her fingertips.

  
Jennsen stood frozen, torn between love and loyalty. Skull knocked Grandfather to the ground, a spray of blood flying as the old man screamed, falling on them all like red rain.

  
Kahlan reached for Haden's face, her eyes already swirling black.

  
Jennsen threw herself into the tangle of women, taking the Confessor's touch in Haden's stead.  
Haden pulled herself and Jennsen free, dragging her lover back to shove her out the door. "Get Lord Rahl!"

  
Jennsen nodded, eyes darting and wild as she strained to see what had become of her grandfather, a massive guilt already sinking her heart like a stone.

  
"Go!" Haden shouted again, shoving at her blindly with one hand while holding her Agiel out in front of her to ward Kahlan off with the other.

  
No time for guilt, no time for grief, no time for anything.

  
Jennsen ran to get her brother.

  
Free from the pain of the Agiel, Kahlan's face went from confused determination to the featureless mask she had been wearing.

  
She gestured and the wolf lifted its bloody muzzle, abandoning Zedd to push itself almost vertical against the wall in order to turn around in the tight space and come to Kahlan's aid, blood-blackened teeth dripping with death.

  
Haden threw herself out of the doorway, ducking and rolling through massive paws, Agiel scraping against vulnerable underbelly as she moved.

  
The wolf grumbled, annoyed as if by a fly, but the walls were too close for it to turn again without going through the open cell door.

  
Seizing her chance, Haden forced the cell door shut in the few seconds the wolf was on the outside, all her weight and strength against the reinforced barrier as Skull snarled and snapped.  
She never saw when Kahlan left the cell, but she could not follow or warn anyone while Skull waited in the corridor. Zedd's breath came in wet, bubbling bursts, but she dared not take her eyes from the yellow hunter's glare that watched her through the bars.

  
She didn't know how long she waited, staring into those golden orbs.

  
Abruptly, scenting the air, the wolf left, trotting down the hall as if it were commonplace.  
She watched him go. Before he turned the corner he looked back, uttering a low woof.  
It was almost as if he were saying goodbye.

**-l-**

Zedd looked down at himself. His hands were smooth and arthritis free. There was a wiry strength in his limbs that had not been present for a long while, an energy that had left him long ago. He felt his face, his cheeks smooth and his skin firm.

  
"I'm dead, aren't I?" he said to the air.

  
**_Hello, Zeddicus._ **

  
That voice sunk down into his soul, wrapping him in the sweetest music he had ever heard. His heart ached, and he wished for it never to stop.

  
Turning, he found Hali standing behind him, the sight of her painful in its perfection. Her gown seemed made of light, a white diaphanous flow that merged into creation.

  
"A wolf. I wasn't expecting a wolf," was all he could think of to say. Words seemed so meaningless and empty here.

  
Hali frowned and the lines creasing her brow made him want to weep with sorrow and laugh with joy.

  
**_Neither was I._ **

  
Zedd gaped at her, shocked, "You don't know?"

  
**_I gave free will to all of my children, Zeddicus. I cannot know all that they will do with it, though I have… glimmers._ **

  
"Your prophecies."

  
She moved closer, her hair and gown flowing around her, and Zedd found he couldn't breathe.  
He didn't need to breathe, but the heavy weight of her presence, the feeling that at any moment his skin may turn inside out was more than he could bear.

  
He fell to his knees, head bowed.

  
"Creator."

  
**_Oh, Zeddicus._ **

  
She sighed, reaching out a hand to touch him, but stopping just short. How he ached for those fingers to caress him, for the sweet crushing weight of all that she was to be his to feel forever.

  
**_You are the first mortal to feel the full force of my presence in three thousand years._ **

  
"Why?" he choked, tears streaming down his face as he yearned for her to close the distance between her skin and his.

  
**_A test, my champion._ **

  
"A test? Have I passed?" he fought the urge to grovel, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed convulsively, keeping his pathetic entreaties behind stubborn lips.

  
He had loved Hali. He could do nothing less than be a slave of the Creator, his dead heart hammering in his chest.

  
**_We will both know in time._ **

  
She began to fade from his sight, her presence lifting.

  
**_You still have a path to walk on earth, Zeddicus. Walk it well and you will know my touch._ **

  
"But what will happen? Hali! Where are you going? What is it we truly face?" he shouted into the ether.

  
A ghost of a kiss brushed his cheek, a heavy whisper in his ear: **_Tell him I cannot help until he asks._**

  
A shuddering breath, a hesitation, and then words that branded themselves on Zedd's heart.

  
**_Know that I too make mistakes._ **

  
"I love you," he called after her.

  
His answer was a braying laugh that sounded nothing like a god.

 

**-l-**

Zedd sat up with a startled jerk, Hali's name on his lips, copper flecks flying from his bloodied face to form a slash of red on Haden's cheek.

  
She didn't seem to notice, watching him with hard eyes, her face and leathers streaked with gore.  
Looking down at shredded robes, he realized the blood she wore was his.

  
"You gave me the breath of life."

  
She nodded. "My debt to you is paid."

  
Standing, she offered him a hand up.

* * *

 

  
**Chapter 46: Forces**   


  


* * *

"The temple is overrun. We've lost too many Mord'Sith – there aren't enough of them to defend it."

"Believe me, Cara," Darken rested his hand atop her gloved one, still looking out over the wall, trying to detect the presence of either Kahlan or the unicorn. The skin on the back of his neck crawled, his internal sense telling him that something was wrong. He had felt it ever since the Confessor had taken to ghosting about the castle, seemingly with an eerie understanding of secret passageways and corridors that had taken him years to achieve.

"I wish to aid them as much as you do. But what is the point of sending men if the temple is already lost? We need to fortify our remaining holdings, but we can't justify a fool's errand."

Cara pulled her hand away, mouth open as she snapped at him, "A fool's errand? Have you even stopped to ask me which temple of my Sisters is under attack?"

Darken looked up, his interest caught.

"It's Falketurn, the temple we once used as a staging ground –"

"To take Aydindril. Yes, I remember," he raised a hand to tug at his lip, closing his eyes to release the spell of far seeing he had been using to aid in his search.

"If they take the temple, and then Aydindril," Cara pressed on, knowing she was swaying him. "If they can convince the people to follow them…"

"The people will not easily abandon magic – their healers, midwives, local magicians, all are important to village life."

"People are stupid," Cara countered, eyes hard. "If our enemies use the wolves to wipe out our forces and take Aydindril, and then claim that magic-free lives will be better… Or even worse, simply stir the people to revolt against you, to make us fight ourselves and these monks and their dogs at the same time… You are not well loved by the general public, Darken. They will turn on you too easily."

Darken smiled nastily. Wizard's First Rule had always been his favorite. "And then our hypocritical friends will have a stronghold and a following."

"And this will no longer be a war that isn't a war. The Midlands are tearing themselves apart now. If they gain such a place of power in the people's minds –"

There were shouts, a scream and the sound of hooves hitting stone as a white blur appeared on the ground below the wall. Kahlan's unicorn bounded at a speed a horse could not follow, the Confessor a white extension of the beast, a bundle thrown over the unicorn's back in front of her.

Soldiers and Mord'Sith boiled after them like ants, archers hesitating to fire, a quad led by Richard struggling to get into the saddle before the unicorn left their sight.

It was hopeless. The mythical creature was too fast to catch, and the chance of killing the Confessor too great to open fire. Darken could not even call on his han – his control was not fine enough to hit such a specific target at that distance, and killing Kahlan, however accidental, would start the war he and Cara had been trying to avoid.

With his general's mind, Darken could see the position they had been forced into. Their enemies, these monks, had a blind intolerance for magic. They would not rest until it was wiped from the earth.

What better way to destroy your enemies than to get them to fight each other?

The possessed Mother Confessor was a tool, he saw now. Whether she lived or died, she was a rallying point, a banner for those who still feared his return.

Whoever their enemy truly was, they were very clever.

"The rivers will run with blood," Darken intoned, lowering the hand he had lifted when considering the risks of throwing a lightning bolt.

"I will gather our forces." Cara turned, hands on her Agiels.

"Tell me, Queen Cara," Darken said, enjoying the way the name rolled from his tongue, "why do you fight so hard to save this temple?"

"For the good of D'Hara," she answered, flushing with pleasure at her new title despite herself. She looked forward to it becoming her title in truth.

Darken raised a brow. "Come, Cara, I know you better than that."

She turned back to him, an unusually earnest look on her face. "How many Mord'Sith have we lost since these wolves appeared? How many more can we afford to lose?"

Memories of a temple filled with bones and decaying leather danced before her eyes.

"We are a dying breed," she continued with an ironic smile, pain dancing just beyond her expression. "I am proud to be Mord'Sith. I will not allow us to be wiped from the earth."

Darken ran his fingers over her cheek. She leaned into the touch.

_Never again._

"My lord!" shouted Haden, sweat and blood shining on her face as she turned the corner onto the wall, running at full tilt.

  
"Report," he snapped, dispensing with the formalities.

Eyes wild, filled with a protective fierceness Darken had witnessed only in those truly mad with bloodlust, Haden snarled, "She took Jennsen."

Darken traced a finger over Haden's cheek, the congealing blood that lined her skin oozing onto his finger.

He could feel, rather than see Cara fidgeting.

She did not like him touching another.

How reassuring.

"Whose blood is this?" he asked the stone-faced warrior.

"Mine," came a tired sounding voice.

Darken raised his face to the doorway to see Zeddicus limp his way through, his robes a bloody tattered mess.

"The Confessor freed the wolf and took my Sparrow," Haden informed Darken, beside herself.

"Sparrow?" he asked.

"Jennsen," Cara snapped, her attention on Zedd and Haden.

A simmering, frothing, anger unfurled in Darken's breast.

In the wrong hands, Jennsen was a great danger, her blood a powerful weapon.

But more importantly, she was his sister.

He didn't know when that had begun to matter more.

"We have to go after her," Haden gripped Darken's hands firmly, the pressure turning his skin white.

"You overstep," his voice cut through her rage.

She bowed her head, silently asking forgiveness.

"We will get her back," Cara assured Haden, her voice like a steel bell.

"We don't know where Kahlan is taking her," Zedd protested.

"The location spell, what does it need to work?" Haden asked Zedd, madness waiting at the edge of her eyes.

"Blood, or something equally personal."

"I think," she said, "I may have something."

Darken turned to Zeddicus, "Will the spell work on the pristinely ungifted?"

Zedd seemed to be consulting the clouds, his eyelids tightly shut in his wrinkled face.

"No," he said at last, "I don't think it will."

"But it will work," Richard's voice startled them from the tower doorway, "on Kahlan."

They turned en masse to watch Richard as he pulled something from a fold in his vest. It was a twist of long dark hair, braided into a love knot, a common token of devotion among those too poor to buy their lover gifts.

Zedd smiled a quiet, sad smile, the lines in of his face seeming deeper than before. "That will work."

"Richard, you must select the finest officers and take a rescue party to the Temple of Falketurn. It's under siege. Zedd, can you transport them there?" Cara asked, easily falling into the role of commander.

Confused, Richard nodded. Zedd answered that he doubted he could move more than ten people without a focus and a power boost from Darken.

"I have the journey book page they sent their report on. Take as many as you can, just be sure that the temple holds until we get there. Darken, Haden, and I will go after Jennsen and Kahlan."

Haden looked between Darken and Cara.

"An excellent plan, Queen Cara," he said, answering the unasked question.

Richard blinked, tightly gripping Kahlan's love knot as he absorbed that information. He didn't have the time or energy to spare on anything but the matter at hand.

"There is something everyone should be aware of," Zedd cautioned. "Just before he made his escape, I discovered something about Skull."

"Skull?"

"It's what Kahlan called the wolf," Haden said briefly, eyes on Zedd.

"He was not born," Zedd continued, "he was made with powerful magic by an expert transmorgrifist. And he has a certain ability…he can sense the use and possession of magic."

They all considered that for a quiet moment, though each on the wall burned inside with the call to action, thoughts of lives lost, sisters taken, legacies endangered thick in the air.

"It changes nothing about the plan," Darken said at last.

Richard held the love knot out to Zedd, his gaze on his brother's face as he said, "One thing changes. I'll gather my best men, but I'm coming with you. Jennsen is my sister too."

An understanding passed between them as they stood eye-to-eye, man-to-man.

Darken could feel Cara's warmth at his side, Haden's frustrated fidgeting.

"And you fear for Kahlan," he replied.

There was no mockery, no sneer to the statement.

Just a simple fact. A perfect understanding.

They went to make their preparations, knowing that many lives hung in the balance.

And two loves.

 

 

 

* * *

**Chapter 47: Captive**

* * *

Jennsen awoke to a pounding in her head and an ache in her middle. She opened her eyes, then promptly shut them again, the ground moving below her in a nauseating whirl of leaps and bounds.

She was slung across the back of a horse, she thought.

Further exploration revealed her hands were bound and her temple was stuck to the horse's side with dried blood. She realized it was her own when she wrenched her face away, flinching at the tearing pain as the wound reopened. That, combined with the sickening sensation of the bounding horse, made her feel ill.

She turned her face up, wriggling for a more comfortable position, tongue clumsy and thick in her mouth as her gorge rose.

  
"I'm going to be sick," she whimpered to her captor.

Her scalp burned as her hair was yanked back, forcing her to look at the rider that held her, the angle of her neck constricting her air flow.

It was Kahlan.

Or, it wasn't Kahlan.

It was whatever used Kahlan's body.

And that meant Jennsen wasn't on a horse.

She was on a unicorn.

Kahlan moved, there was a buzzing in Jennsen's ears, and then blackness.

Her last thought was of amazement at how quickly the unicorn moved.

It was like riding a dream.

**-l-**

When next Jennsen awoke she was propped against a tree, still bound. The sun hurt her eyes, a blinding white needle into her mind.

She blinked to clear the spots over her eyes, fighting her nauseous dizziness to focus at last on the vision before her.

  
A tower rose sharply into the air, the setting sun behind it. It looked like the stone tower where her brother Darken had once kept her. Those memories felt years old. Were they? How much time had passed since she cried in the arms of the most feared tyrant in living memory?

Wolves moved all around her, the musky scent of the hunters thick in her nose. Monks like those she had seen, like those that Richard had killed to rescue that treacherous unicorn, were everywhere among the wolves, treating them as if they were people.

Jennsen found it interesting that some seemed completely at ease and in fact almost worshipped the beasts.

Others seemed on the knife edge of terror, barely able to keep from fleeing.

She would remember that. It would help her brothers.

When she escaped.

However she was going to do that.

She turned her attention back to the stone tower. It must be a Mord'Sith temple.

The tree line had been burned back, blackened stumps and ash forming a circle of visibility all around the pillar of stone.

  
Jennsen wondered who had set the fire. Was it the attackers, or the Mord'Sith that must be defending the temple?

A bald man approached, hands folded in ornate robes, one of the enormous wolves at his side. Jennsen slumped, clenching her eyes shut, hoping he would think her still unconscious.

"Why did you bring me this one?" the man asked in a grumbling whine of a voice that Jennsen didn't like.

From behind and to the side, Kahlan's voice sounded, "She is pristinely ungifted. Mother said she would be useful to you. Her blood strips the pretenders of their power."

Footsteps and hoof beats, muffled by the forest floor. Jennsen opened her eyes a slit to see Kahlan standing with Sepina. The monk talked to them, looking at and addressing the unicorn though it was Kahlan who spoke for them.

So Cara and Darken were right. It was the unicorn that had invaded Kahlan's mind.

Beauty did not always equal virtue.

"She's awake," Kahlan's flat voice announced.

Jennsen got chills when she realized it was Sepina who watched her.

The monk turned to her, all smiles and joviality. "Hello there, little one," he said condescendingly. "I am sorry for how my friend has treated you. She gets overzealous at times."

Opening her eyes, Jennsen asked, "Who are you? And where am I?"

The man knelt so that their faces where level, his bald head shining in the sun.

"I am Brother Jarl, and you are in the encampment of the Brotherhood of the Gods. We are trying to take this witch tower, to free the people from its taint."

He was not ugly, his features were average, but something about him made the air around him foul. It could have been the hatred that hid in the corner of his smile, or the supreme intolerance at the back of his eyes. Perhaps it was the twisted feeling that Jennsen got that he liked control, enjoyed having her captive.

Whatever it was, Jennsen found herself feeling sick all over again.

"Witch tower?" she asked, trying her best to sound pleasant and harmless.

Maybe they would let her go.

"Yes, you see," Brother Jarl stroked her face with a sweaty calloused hand. "Tyrn, the king of the gods, and his brothers and the goddesses that serve them have great power. So great and wonderful that in the beginning of time, in an era no living mortal has memory of, man grew jealous of their creators. They sent thieves to take the power of the gods. Wizards, witches, Mord'Sith, Confessors… they are all descendants of those thieves that must be dealt with."

Jennsen shivered, her skin crawling where he touched. He genuinely believed what he was saying, all of it, the look in his eyes too mad to be faked.

"Why?" she asked. "Why do they have to be dealt with?"

He cupped her cheek, bringing his face closer so that she could feel his breath against her lips.

"They stole power from the gods," he whispered angrily, a fleck of spittle hitting her cheek, "and until that power is returned the world will be flawed. It is an ugly, nasty place, full of murder, and rape, and violent acts of every kind."

He ran his nails down her neck and she fought to keep tears from her eyes.

"But you are special, my dear," he said, dangerous faith, violent zealotry in his every movement. "You have no magic, no stolen power at all. You are from a line of people who never offended Tyrn. Once we have restored the world to heavenly perfection, you would be the perfect maiden to stand at my side."

He kissed her, forcing his tongue into her mouth as she tried to squirm backwards, the tree trunk she was bound to frustrating her efforts. She bit down, hard, refusing to let up even when he yanked his head back, letting go only when he slammed his fist into the side of her head.

She blinked, dazed, barely understanding the stream of religious invective he spewed, his words garbled by his injured tongue.

He screamed in her face, slapping her again.

She laughed at him, her mouth red with his blood, the sickening coppery sweetness running from the corners of her lips. Jennsen spat, darkly pleased when Jarl's face was spotted with his own blood. He wiped at his skin, burning with self-righteousness as he made dire predictions of what could befall a woman who did not know her place.

Jennsen looked up at him, blue eyes burning like lightning, and made the ominous promise, "My brothers will come for you."

  
Her face was red with suppressed rage.

Jarl laughed, too stupid to take her seriously, "And I suppose they'll conjure a storm of stolen power and ride it here to kill me."

"No," Jennsen spat, "they'll grow wings and fly here and then they'll hold you down while my lover tortures you."

  
Angry that she could not be cowed, Jarl struck her again, making her eye feel it was going to pop from her head. It was already beginning to swell when he walked away, snapping at the wolf to guard her.

Kahlan and Sepina followed him, apparently unconcerned with the entire exchange.

Jennsen looked up across the burned clearing where a hawk could be seen perched and watching her.

She sincerely hoped that the white ring around the tail, the wings the color of sunset were not part of a desperate delusion.

"Red Wolf," she whispered to herself.

To her surprise, the hell hound that had been ordered to guard her laid down, watching her in an almost friendly way.

She studied it with her good eye, then cautiously, said "Skull?"

His tail thumped the ground.

* * *

**Chapter 48: Freedom**

* * *

Haden held her arm out as Red Wolf, her Dusky Hawk, landed, gliding silently on blood red wings.

"I could see her through the bird's eyes," Darken said, opening his own as he exhaled. "She's still alive."

Haden struggled to keep still, for once having to bite her tongue to maintain silence. Even in her fog of rage and worry, she understood that careful planning was the key to Jennsen's survival.

Richard tilted his head back to peer at the tower where the top was visible through the trees.

"Zedd and the two quads he took with him should be in there now. It's lucky that we ended up in the same place."

Darken nodded thoughtfully as he joined his brother, formulating a plan.

"The unicorn must move very fast," Haden said tightly. "It took us days to reach the People's Palace from Aydindril. She's covered the same distance in half a day."

Cara nodded, stumbling slightly as she was taken by a dizzy spell.

"Haden," Darken's voice echoed through the clearing, "can your hawk carry a message?"

"To save Jennsen, Red Wolf can do anything."

"Then we will send one to Zeddicus," Darken smiled a Rahl smile. "If the roast looks too big to eat –"

"Cut it in half," Richard finished, a matching grin on his face. "Zedd used to say that to me too."

"A two pronged attack," Cara said approvingly, determined to master her body.

Just this fight. She just needed to get through this fight, keep them both alive, save her Sisters, save his sister, and defeat their enemy now that he had shown himself.

Then she could go home, marry her lover, and have their child.

**-l-**

Jennsen dozed against the tree she was bound to, pain and Skull her constant companions. She had exhausted herself hours ago with her struggles to be free from her bonds. The sun was beginning to set.

She must have imagined the hawk. She would die here.

She would make sure of it.

She would escape one way or another. She would never live to be Jarl's slave.

_Freedom or death._

Jennsen started, turning her good eye on the wolf that sat by her side, his ears pricked forward as he gazed past her, into the forest.

"Skull? Did you just speak?"

Piercing yellow eyes fixed on her face. She could not look away.

For a nauseating moment, two creatures stood before her, superimposed over one another.

One was a strapping man, bulging with the muscle of a blacksmith. The other was a grey wolf, of normal size.

She blinked and the image was gone.

Skull crouched, inching on his belly until his great head lay by her bound hands, the rune covered band of metal around his neck, the collar only Jennsen could see, just beyond the edge of her fingertips.

She remembered the way Skull's muzzle had looked, stained with her grandfather's blood.

But she wasn't afraid.

Straining, she managed to hook the collar with two fingers.

"Freedom," she closed her eyes, "or death."

She pushed on Skull's rump with both her bound feet to encourage him to back up. He did so, the collar staying behind, caught by her awkwardly hooked fingers, sliding easily from his fur.

He shook himself, snorting, then stretched, obviously pleased.

Their eyes locked once more.

A concussive force blew outwards from the temple tower as Skull bared his fangs.

**-l-**

"The signal," Darken said from his position at the tree line. "Come."

Haden made her way over to him, Cara and Richard a half step behind.

Richard grabbed Cara's arm gently, stopping her in her tracks.

"Are you sure you shouldn't be at the People's Palace?" he asked, voice overfull with concern.

Giving him one of her looks, she pulled her arm from his grasp, "Why would I stay there when the battle is here?"

Staring through her in a way Cara had thought only Darken to be capable of, Richard answered, "Because you're going to be my brother's wife. And you're with child."

Jaw clenching in anger, she glanced at Darken, then hissed, "Jennsen told you."

"I overheard you arguing," he said stonily, wearing the look of a man who believed himself to be absolutely in the right.

  
"I will tell everyone when the battle is finished and we're safe," she replied through clenched teeth. "Until then, you _will_ keep your mouth shut."

"Cara, what about –"

She whirled on him, her hair flying around her face, "Being with child does _not_ make me an invalid!"

And with that, she stalked off, leaving a shell shocked Richard in her wake.

He began to wonder how much of her deference, her willingness to follow his lead in the past had been due to his status in her eyes as Lord Rahl.

He stepped up to the others, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"I will release the spell after one hundred heartbeats. Find your marks before then."

They all nodded their understanding before they were covered in a swirl of black magic.

Where four warriors had stood, four hawks remained.

They took off, winging their way into the sky.

 

 

* * *

**Chapter 49: Heartbeat**

* * *

They flew over a volley of flaming arrows, their allies in the tower warned to watch for them. Below them the barren no man's land surrounding Falketurn boiled with wolves, their gray shapes zigzagging through the blackened ash to run at the temple doors, powerful shoulders making reinforced wood creak.

But the Mord'Sith, D'Haran quads, and Wizard of the First Order inside the temple walls would not come out, would give no quarter. They kept to the high slitted windows made for archers, stayed out of reach atop the tower wall, too high for the wolves to jump.

The Brotherhood of the Gods was ambitious, with many tools at its disposal. But they were not military campaigners. They hurled themselves against the bulwark that was Falketurn, achieving nothing more than pounding themselves into the dirt.

  
Jarl closed his eyes, face twitching, eyelids flickering as he communed with Tyrn.

Turning to the Brother that stood at his side, Jarl ordered, "Bring me the girl Sepina captured. She's tied at the edge of the camp. Go!"

Bowing, the younger monk went to do as commanded.

_Twenty heartbeats._

Though their hawk eyesight was not much better than a human's in the fading light as night set in, the white of the unicorn and the shining fabric of Kahlan's dress were like beacons that drew the eye. The Confessor sat astride Sepina's back as they bounded toward the gates.

Richard shrieked a raptor call, clumsily spilling air from his wings as he plummeted to intercept her.

That was not part of the plan.

Darken called to Richard with his hawk's voice, but was ignored. Much more gracefully than the sandy brown hawk that flew before him, Darken trimmed his wings, following Richard, Cara close behind.

If she had possessed a human tongue she would have screamed curses at the both of them. It had been agreed that the most important thing was finding and neutralizing the leader of the siege - perhaps extracting information on how to free Kahlan. But no, Richard charged blindly after Kahlan, as always, though this time he dragged Darken and Cara along with him.

Beneath her bluster, Cara understood. Were it Darken held in thrall, she would do whatever it took to save him.

  
But for Spirits sake, she would be smarter about it.

_Fifty heartbeats._

They drew even over Kahlan's position long before the spell of transformation had run its course. Soaring, they kept her below them.

Cara glared her hooded raptor's glare at Richard's tail feathers. Now what did he expect them to do?

She got her answer as Richard dove, talons open to rake at the eyes of the unicorn Kahlan rode.

With a cry Cara and Darken followed, distracting Kahlan and Sepina and the surrounding wolves with their superior skills of flight long enough for Richard to clumsily regain the altitude he had sacrificed.

The Seeker was fearless, reckless to the point of foolishness. As wolves snapped, the beasts close enough for their breath to ruffle his tail feathers as he angled upwards again, Darken wondered what that made him.

**-l-**

_Seventy heartbeats._

Haden did not follow when the Lords Rahl and Mistress Cara flew after the Confessor. She had one mission in mind - a course that even Lord Rahl had known not to deny.

One of the first lessons a successful commander learned was not to give an order that wouldn't be obeyed.

Haden searched the trees, her dusky wings cutting effortlessly through the air as she circled in the area where she believed Jennsen to be.

She would have her Sparrow back again, and then she would find those responsible for every bruise, scrape, cut, and fear and make them pay in inches of flesh in the torture chambers of her temple. Their screams would echo down the halls, their blood would coat the flagstones. She would be merciless until they begged for death.

And then she would give it to them.

Only to grant them life once more.

And do it all again.

_Eighty heartbeats._

Below she caught sight of a monk, his robes bright against the trees as he fiddled and fidgeted with ropes.

Ropes that had been used to bind.

Haden circled slowly, alighting on a branch to watch the man. A cool rage filled her from claw to beak with the direst cruelty.[vi]

 _One hundred heartbeats_.

Haden was covered in an eerie cloud of black smoke that wasn't smoke as she regained her true form. The branch she was on began to give way, but she was already tipping forward, somersaulting through the air to land like a stone on the monk below her.

He squawked as her feet connected with his back, his knees buckling as her weight crushed him to the forest floor. A sickening crunch suggested something might be broken.

Haden did not care.

She knelt on his back, eyes burning with fury as her Agiel screamed her rage, her gaze focused on the shredded ropes and splash of blood that adorned the base of the tree in front of them.

"Where is she?" she purred, a dangerous, seductive sound.

The monk whimpered and she dug her Agiel into the bald pate at the top of his head, his cries pleasing to her ears.

  
"Where is she?" she asked, using the exact same inflection as she had before.

"I don't - aarrggh!" the monk screamed, the veins of his scalp burning deep red as she pressed her Agiel to it again, drool sliding down one side of his face.

"She was s-supposed to be here, in this spot," he stuttered out when she released him from the Agiel's dark embrace, not waiting for her to ask again.

Haden shifted her weight, pulling herself and the monk up, one arm twisted painfully behind his back. All she need do was apply the correct pressure and...

"Where is she now?"

"I don't know! I swear I don't know!" he whined, a piddling excuse for a man. He hadn't lasted long at all.

She held her Agiel in his periphery vision, bringing it slowly closer to his temple until -

"There was one of the Fenrisulfr here with her! He might have killed her, I don't know anything else!" He told her in a rush, whimpers and moans following the speech.

Haden's heart stopped beating.

She heard herself say, "Fenrisulfr?"

There was a ringing in her ears.

"The wolves," the monk moaned.

Haden sheathed her Agiel at her side, then reached up to gently run her free hand along the monk's jaw, stopping when her fingers where splayed across his neck and cheek.

"You have been very helpful, so I will have mercy," she whispered into the back of his bald head, her heart filled with ice.

  
She flexed her hand, prepared to snap his neck.

"Haden!"

The Mord'Sith blinked, looking toward the trees.

Jennsen burst into sight, scratched, bloody, bruised, but beautifully alive.

And astride the back of a monstrous wolf.

"I've been looking for you everywhere. Skull sensed your Agiel!" the redhead screamed from the wolf's back, holding out a hand for Haden to climb up behind her.

"Where are my brothers? I have things to tell you."

"Last I saw, they pursued the Confessor."

"Well then," the bloodied white hand was shaken impatiently, "come on!"

* * *

**Chapter 50: Guardian**

* * *

_One hundred heartbeats._

Darken dove as he released the transformation spell, Cara at his side. Both landed with knees bent, Darken somewhat lighter on his feet than Cara as smoke swirled around them, feathers shed for their true forms. They slid effortlessly back to back, Cara's Agiels already in her hands, Darken wielding an Agiel with one hand and Wizard's Fire with the other.

Richard plummeted from the sky, through some lucky accident or skill landing astride Sepina's back behind Kahlan. The unicorn immediately began to buck, its flying hooves keeping the Fenrisulfr at bay. Richard grappled with Kahlan, his arms pinning hers to her sides as she struggled to free a hand to confess him. His lips moved in a steady stream of talk as he strived to get through to her, but only he would ever know what he said.

There was a yelp as Darken used one of the wolf's snouts as a springboard, throwing himself high enough to aim a blast of Wizard's Fire over Richard's head, burning alive a monk who had been creeping close to the pair on the unicorn, a dagger in his hands.

Teeth caught him as he fell to earth once more, the momentum of the leaping beast driving him to the ground, the wolf slavering over him.

Then it was listing to the side, an arrow through its eye, shot from the tower at an impossible angle.

Cara protected him as he pulled himself to his feet, fire streaming from his hands. He feared to call lightning. Though it would give him greater advantage, it was a wilder force than fire, as likely to harm his allies as his enemies.

There was a moaning creak, then an enormous splintering boom as the tower door at last gave way, wolves already streaming into the temple, heedless of the sharp wedges of cracked wood that cut their feet.

An enormous she-wolf with eyes of jet black charged at Cara, mouth opened wide, a gaping maw of red and white. Cara held steady, Agiels in front of her. From the corner of her eye she could see a monk walking up to Darken's exposed back, awkwardly holding a sword. Whether expertly wielded or clumsily swung, the steel would cut her soon-to-be-husband and leave him just as dead.

Pitching her voice to be heard above the howl of wolves and the screech of Agiels, Cara called, "Stop!"

The monk did, startled. He was no warrior.

The she-wolf that had been intent on feasting on Cara's flesh pulled up short, ears against her skull. Helhati remembered that voice, instinctively wanted to obey it. This female was her mistress, her alpha.

Wasn't she?

The wolf shook her head, confused memories where she walked on two feet clouding her mind.

Darken threw a ball of fire at the monk who had sought to stab him in the back, not even giving the man a second glance as his flesh shrunk and melted, ignoring the shrieks of agony that echoed in the night.

Cara doubled over, the smell of burning flesh too much to bear, violently bringing up all she had eaten in the past day, continuing to dry heave even when there was nothing left in her stomach. Darken protected her back, forcing his worries for Cara to the back of his mind, all of his focus needed to control his han and keep the pack of wolves from tearing him apart.

  
With Darken occupied with the wolves at their back and Cara herself unable to see as her eyes streamed with tears and her throat burned, her front was left exposed to attack. The world spun as her gut clenched.

Skull's mate saw the weak woman, and went in for the kill, only to be stopped by Helhati.

Helhati knew the strange two-legged female was her Alpha. She did not know how it could be, but she recognized her all the same from an old life that lived in the bottom of a black pit in her mind. She protected Mistress Cara, a giant barrier of claws and teeth, a guardian forged from sinew and black magic.

The Virgin Mother had not counted upon the conditioning, the loyalty, the devotion of the Mord'Sith. Among the Sisters of the Agiel there were two unspoken rules.

_Unity against outsiders._

_Might makes right._

Those rules, that devotion, was not lost. They were too much a part of Bronwyn to become lost when Mother made her into Helhati.

Though her collar squeezed and burned her throat, Helhati protected her true mistress, the woman who had once saved her from the wrath of Darken Rahl, the blood of Skull's mate staining her muzzle red and flowing warmly and deliciously down her throat.

Cara straightened, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand, blinking rapidly to clear her vision.

"Where's Richard?" she shouted to Darken, scanning the battle field for telltale spots of white.

"There!" Darken pointed.

Sepina ran in the distance, Kahlan clinging to her neck as Richard clung desperately to Kahlan, his legs dragging along the side of the unicorn.

Darken set a ring of fire around them to keep the wolves back while Cara recovered. Sweat rolled down his face and his jaw clenched tight as he used all of his not inconsiderable will to keep the flames in check. He was the master of his han, the master of his fire. He could use it, refused to be consumed by it.

He could do anything to keep the family he had only just found.

He had only just discovered how much they mattered.

The wolf that Darken recognized as Skull skidded to a halt just beyond his circle of fire. Darken flared his flames higher, ready to defend his life and Cara's.

She was his strength.

"Brother!"

Darken blinked, allowing the circle of fire to grow lower, the better to find the source of Jennsen's voice.

  
She sat with Haden, riding the wolf.

"We know who their leader is," Jennsen called, voice shrill.

Jennsen eyed the she-wolf that quietly feasted on one of her own canine brethren though her collar squeezed and smoked.

  
The she-wolf looked up, staring into Jennsen's eyes. As it had happened before with Skull, Jennsen saw two creatures occupying the same space at once.

"A Mord'Sith," she whispered to herself. Then louder, "That wolf used to be a Mord'Sith!"

Shocked, Darken and Cara looked to the wolf that had inexplicably come to their aid.

Helhati bowed her head.

Sliding from Skull's back, her shredded dress affording her little modesty, Jennsen fearlessly approached the horse-sized predator.

She touched the blood-soaked muzzle, then grasped something only she could see, giving a mighty yank.

  
A cruel metal collar appeared in her hands.

"I think it's how the monks control them," Jennsen said, smiling then wincing.

Her face was such a mass of blood and bruises that Darken would not have recognized her without the sound of her voice and her distinctive red hair.

"Jennsen knows what their leader looks like, my lord," Haden said, still atop Skull's large back. Her voice cut like a blade.

  
Looking at Jennsen's face once more, Darken could guess why.

"We have to help Richard," Cara asserted, her voice hoarse.

Helhati knelt, offering her back to Darken and Cara.

"We will do both," he said, hoisting himself onto the beast's back, Cara clambering up behind him. "Let us cut the head from this serpent."

Jennsen took her place on Skulls back and they were off, the powerful hind legs of their unusual mounts kicking up clods of dirt and ash.

* * *

**Chapter 51: Gorge**

* * *

Richard clung to Kahlan with desperate hands. One of his nails bent backwards, the acute pain making him wince. But he would not let go of her. Either they were both staying on the unicorn, or they were both coming off.

A growl and a snap from behind them, along with the sound of heavy paws. They were being pursued by the wolves. Would the creatures harm Kahlan? He just couldn't be sure.

Strength renewed, Richard released his grip on Kahlan with one hand, quickly shifting his center of gravity to get one leg back over the unicorn's back, his arm coming to wrap around Kahlan's waist. Veins stood out in his neck, his face red with the effort it took to accomplish that feat.

A massive wolf came abreast with Sepina on the left, tongue hanging from its mouth. It dove toward them, attempting to crash into the unicorn.

Sepina screamed an awful equine scream, lightly jumping sideways to avoid the weight of the wolf.

Richard stared, his limbs frozen.

Was that Darken and Cara on the back of the beast?

Sepina screamed again, dodging back toward the wolf that carried the rulers of D'Hara, this time driven by a wolf on the right. Richard turned his head to see a ragged Jennsen and determined Haden riding the beast.

He held on, disturbed that Kahlan did not react to the sight of their companions riding the wolves.

"Hang on, Richard!" Cara called to him.

Directed by their riders, the two massive wolves began to herd the unicorn, jumping and snapping at her to force her to turn, leading her away from the chaos surrounding the temple, back toward the almost abandoned encampment of the Brotherhood.

"Brother!"

Darken looked over the harried unicorn and its passengers to see Jennsen point.

"That's him! He's trying to get away!"

And indeed it was Jarl, creeping like a worm into the woods. The Brotherhood had made a grave mistake sending the wolves into the tower. The close confines of its halls restricted the movement of the massive beasts, allowing the Mord'Sith and soldiers within to pick them off at leisure before spilling from the tower under cover of Wizard's Fire. The tide had turned and the serpent was fleeing.

"After him!" Darken ordered.

Skull and Helhati obliged, forcing Sepina to turn in the direction Jarl had taken.

The unicorn bounded from side to side, trying to break free of the wolves that hemmed her in. But she was tired and carrying two passengers – she could not outmaneuver them. Kahlan did not even struggle anymore –  she simply kept her fingers tangled in Sepina's mane, staring blankly ahead.

The man in monk robes that Jennsen had identified as the leader of the Brotherhood grew closer, though he tried to run when he realized he was being pursued. Skull and Helhati closed in tighter on Sepina, keeping her on a straight course for the trees.

Jarl broke into a sprint, ornate robes tangling his legs, the heavy tabard of office that looked so impressive now weighing on his neck, soaked with fear sweat. He didn't know how they had done it, but those undesirables, those demons had managed to corrupt even the godly children of Tyrn! Was there no end to their villainy? How else could he explain the Fenrisulfr turning on him, he who was Tyrn's earthly messenger?

He knew no thought other than escape, weaving and winding among trees. He had to save the world, to bring about Tyrn's perfect order.

Without him it was impossible. Without him there would be no one to guide the Virgin Mother, to recruit the righteous to the cause.

He was indispensible.

He skidded to a halt, finely made sandals scrabbling for purchase as loose rocks and brush tumbled over the edge of the gorge that cut across his path. It was a crack, an open wound in the earth reminiscent of the pits of green fire that had spread through the Midlands until Tyrn had defeated the false gods and sealed the veil.

Jarl turned, searching the woods. He could hear them coming. He could hear the howls, hear their panting. He could sense their wickedness.

Sepina burst from the trees, running full tilt at the gorge. Jarl scrambled from her path, falling to his knees in the dirt.

  
The unicorn's feet met air, for a comical moment seemed to hover, and then began to plummet.

Jarl smiled, happy that Sepina was at least taking the bewitched Confessor and her love slave over the edge with her.

  
But they did not fall. They hung in the air as if held by an invisible force. The hand of a god.

The wolves burst into the clearing, snarling and snapping. The Witch King sat astride a wolf, his red-leathered demon behind him. He held out a hand, making a pulling motion.

The two hovering over the edge of oblivion were hurled to earth, landing hard, the stolen power of the Witch King bringing them to safety.

Jarl spat.

Richard stood, pulling the motionless Kahlan up with him, despair in every line of his face. He had thought the death of the unicorn would bring his love back to him, but there she stood, an empty shell.

Haden slid from the back of Skull, then helped Jennsen down, Cara and Darken dismounting as well. They set the wolves to watch Jarl, not considering him a threat as they all gathered around Kahlan.

Richard cupped her cheek, tears in his eyes as he said her name.

She stared blankly ahead, lost inside the fog of her mind.

Jarl knelt, muttering prayers under his breath, his hands steepled before his lips. Skull and Helhati watched, licking their chops.

Darken stepped forward, reaching out a hand. Richard stopped him.

"What are you going to do?" he demanded, face black.

Fathomless eyes, unnatural silence.

"Peace, brother. I will see if I can release her from the magic that holds her mind."

Richard let go of Darken's arm.

Darken touched her temple, inhaling deeply through his nose to find his center.

* * *

**Chapter 52: Love**

* * *

As soon as Darken laid hands on her, Kahlan spun into action, teeth bared in a snarl, though her eyes were still empty. She drew one of her daggers, twisting Darken's arm behind his back and placing the steel at his throat in one swift movement. He tilted his head back to keep his skin from the blade, surprised at her unnatural speed and strength.

"Tyrn moves through her!" Jarl crowed, face bright with mad zealotry. "I prayed and he has answered me!"

The monk stood, bald head sweating, face purple.

Cara's lip curled in a scowl to match the growls coming from the Fenrisulfr, her Agiels leaping into her hands.

"If any of them move, slit his throat!" Jarl called to Kahlan. She nodded, moving the blade closer to Darken's jugular.

  
The breath of life could not restore someone with a damaged throat.

"You're a monster," Jennsen spat, her bloody face a testament to the insane hypocrisy of the man.

"No," he said softly, eyes frighteningly earnest. "I am _right_."

Kahlan began to drag Darken from their circle, taking him to Jarl. Darken could call fire, could cover his skin with it, could bring lightning down on them both and he would remained unharmed.

He watched his brother's anguished face, Cara's calculating stare, and he couldn't do it.

He couldn't deprive Richard of Kahlan.

He locked eyes with Cara, overtaken with an ominous feeling that something monumental was about to happen, a deep foreboding that made him cling to the sight of her. She stood proud, fierce in her red leather, her blond hair flying around her face.

She filled his heart. If he ever lost her…

He could not do that to Richard.

Cara watched the first woman outside the Sisterhood she had ever called friend threaten the life of her child's father. Time seemed to stop, darkness became light, and she knew what to do.

She would save them both.

She signaled Haden with a small twitch of her fingers, glancing at her out of the corner of her eye. The Mord'Sith tilted her chin down, a minute movement.

She understood.

As one they lunged, Haden's Agiel digging into Kahlan's back as Cara slid around Darken to strike the Confessor in the temple with the butt of her Agiel.

Kahlan screamed, releasing Darken as her veins burned with torture magic. She opened her eyes.

And they were clear.

Haden removed her Agiel.

Kahlan's eyes clouded again then swirled black as she spun, her white sleeves flowing around her. She grasped Haden's face, deaf to the cry of "No!" that burst from Jennsen's lips.

Then she was screaming again, convulsing as another Agiel was forced against her skin, this time by Darken.

"Step back, she can't confess me!"

Jennsen held Richard's arm with all her might, becoming a dead weight hanging from his side to keep him from knocking Darken to the ground.

Cara advanced on the cowering Jarl, sweeping a vicious kick across his chest then cracking her Agiel across his jaw. "Fix her!" she demanded.

He laughed, loudly. Obnoxiously.

Deliberately.

She struck him again, crunching bone and grinding cartilage.

He held his hand to the bright red stream that poured from his nose, his laughter edged with pain, tears streaming from his eyes.

Behind her the struggle continued, Darken forcing Kahlan to her knees, the Agiel against her neck.

"Stop it! You'll kill her!" Richard was a mad creature, not to be reasoned with. He could see only Kahlan.

"We are in the company of Mord'Sith, brother," Darken observed in an attempt to be soothing.

"No!" Richard shook Jennsen off, not noticing how hard she hit the ground, rushing forward to seize the Agiel that Darken held.

Cara kicked Jarl again, a cacophony of screaming Agiels piercing the air as she drove one of hers into his ear.

Once the Agiel left her skin, Kahlan's eyes clouded into the glazed mask of the bewitched. Her hands shot out, gripping both brothers by the throat.

"She can't confess you," Richard said, wrenching the Agiel from Darken's hands.

"But she _can_ confess _you_!" Darken protested, voice a guttural growl.

Kahlan's eyes swirled black. Darken clipped her under the chin with a sharp jab of his elbow, forcing her away from his brother.

She fell back, dazed, but then came at them again. Darken wrapped his fingers around Richard's hand, the hand that held his Agiel, and drove it up into the Mother Confessor's heart.

The magic spread in a web across her chest, her lips open in a silent wail. She focused on Richard, falling to her knees, the Agiel still held against her breast by both brothers.

Voice a crack, so low that they almost couldn't hear her, she gasped, "Richard?"

"Kahlan!" he exclaimed, tears gathering in his eyes as he tried to pull the Agiel away.

"N-no…" she trailed off, hands coming up to clasp the screeching weapon to her skin.

"Kahlan, I love you."

She didn't answer, her lips beginning to turn blue as the Agiel's magic crawled up her neck.

She muttered something.

"Kahlan?" Richard asked.

Her world narrowed to one point. All that existed was Richard. She wanted to stay with him. To serve him. To guide him.

Always.

Even if that meant trusting his brother.

Quietly, haltingly, she pledged her fidelity to the House of Rahl.

"Masters Rahl, guide me. Masters Rahl, p-protect me."

Jarl stopped laughing.

"Fiend!" he hissed, realizing that the soul-stealing woman must have gleaned some things from the mind that controlled her.

  
Kahlan finished her oath just before her heart gave out, shoving the Agiel away from her flesh as she took in painful gulps of air.

Her eyes remained clear.

Richard cradled her to his chest, wiping sweaty hair away from her forehead.

"The oath… I heard them in my head," she explained. "It protects."

Richard laughed, then cried, a hiccupping mass of hysterics, clutching Kahlan as if he would never let her go.

Darken stood, sheathing his Agiel. He watched the two together, but refrained from commenting.

Haden and Jennsen advanced on the bloody Jarl, Haden silently cataloging Jennsen's wounds.

She would be sure to revisit all of them on the man who had caused them.

"Lord Rahl," Haden's voice echoed flatly through the clearing, "what shall we do with him?"

It wasn't Darken's voice, but Richard's that ordered, "Kill him."

Haden looked to Darken, who nodded.

Cara stepped aside, sensing Haden's need for vengeance. She had already taken her pound of flesh. She would be satisfied to watch his death dealt by another.

"You don't have to watch, Sparrow," Haden said.

Jennsen smiled grimly, her various bruises and scabs making her resemble a goblin.

"Yes," she said, "I do."

Her eyes burned.

Haden nodded, then slammed her fist into the side of Jarl's head without warning, giving him a bruise to match the one that Jennsen wore.

Jarl shook his head, his mad laughter starting again as he fought to keep from screaming.

"You call me a monster, you stupid woman!" He slathered at Jennsen, bloody spittle flying from his lips, "Look around you. _You_ are the monsters!"

Haden slapped him.

Hard.

"We've all killed. It's a war," Kahlan said from Richard's arms, her voice a faint whisper.

"But have you killed children? Hmm? How many of you have hurt a child?"

Haden drove her heavy red boot into his sternum, knocking the air from his lungs. He gasped and flopped like a fish.

"Stop playing with him, Haden," Darken ordered, all of the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention, his internal sense screaming that the monk could not be allowed to continue.

Cara clenched her teeth, a hand on her belly. How many girls had she shaped into Mord'Sith? How many had she eliminated for not being strong enough?

"You risked so much to save him. You're Mistress Cara, aren't you?" Jarl asked once he had caught his wind.

"Silence him, Haden," Darken demanded, crackles of electricity sparking over his skin and frizzing his hair as he was overcome with a feeling of dread. "I grow impatient."

"Do you know what he did, Mistress Cara?" Jarl continued in a stage whisper. "Do you know who killed your son?"

For a moment Cara panicked, thinking Jarl somehow knew of and had harmed the child she carried. But then her mind cleared. She brought her fingers up to caress the bones at her throat, the amulet that was all she had left of her Nicholas.

"Who?" she asked, her voice strong and clear.

"His father," was the hissed answer, delivered with an evil smile. It was the look of a cornered creature, a man who knew he was causing pain and enjoyed it, a twisted mask of bitter rage.

An evil wraith.

Cara felt sick. Lightheaded. Nauseous. Emotionless.

She felt nothing.

"Is it true?" she asked.

No one answered.

" _Is it true_?" came a hoarse scream.

She realized it was her voice when her Agiels began to whine, though she had sheathed them.

Kahlan remembered hearing of Richard's suspicions while lost in her waking nightmare. She believed it. Darken Rahl had proved himself to be ruthless over and over again. He had ordered the slaughter at Brennidon, the genocide of the Confessors, the burning of the Forest of the Night Wisps.

And he had saved the world, and her life. He made Cara happy. His bloodline protected those who swore to them from the mind magic that had imprisoned her.

She looked into his eyes.

Darken was plummeting, spinning out of control. A rush of wind sounded in his ears. Cara could not leave him. He would not let her leave him.

It was more than possession, more than loneliness. It was more than a body breathing next to his in the dark. It was more than oaths, more than debt, greater than fear.

It was a yawning hole inside of him that he had been trying to fill for his entire life.

His throat constricted and he couldn't clear it. His eyes burned and he couldn't blink.

He couldn't find his center.

He loved her.

So simple. So difficult.

How had it eluded him so long?

He loved her.

The Mother Confessor peered into the soul of the man she had been raised to hate, raised to kill.

And saw true remorse.

She looked at Jarl.

"He's lying."

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

  
**Chapter 53: Blood**   


  


* * *

"He's lying."

"Witch! Soul Stealer!" Jarl screamed, shrieked, the howl of a man beyond all sanity. "You're the liar! Demon!"

Cara turned to look at Darken, taking in the stricken look on his face, the little sparks of lightning that climbed over his skin.

She believed.

She had to.

She nodded to him.

The tension melted from his form as he took quick steps towards her, somehow feeling she wouldn't be real, wouldn't still be with him until he touched her.

They embraced in a fraught tangle of limbs, just shy this side of painful. Twisting, Darken met Kahlan's gaze over Cara's shoulder.

She inclined her head.

They were true allies at last.

Jarl sat under the watchful eye of the dark-haired Mord'Sith and the traitorous wolves, out of options, out of hope.

With nothing to lose.

Cackling, crazy, determined to claim a victory for his gods, no matter how small, he called on all the power the gods had granted him with.

And then more. He burned, he twisted, he writhed with pain, laughing all the while, his convulsions attributed to his madness.

He drew on his life force, drained it dry, funneled his vitality all into one spell.

Then he stretched out a hand.

And cast it, screaming as his death magic pulled his spirit from his body, a wave of malign power flying at the Witch King.

Cara's eyes widened.

She shoved hard, flinging Darken from the path of the tidal wave of blood, the visible wall of red magic that hurtled toward them.

She leaned back, diving away, but not quickly enough. The red slammed into the right side of her chest and abdomen, tearing through her like a thousand needles. She was blown back into the trunk of a tree, her vision going dark as her head was slammed into the wood.

Jennsen was the first to get to Cara's prone form, her concern and knowledge of the baby giving her feet wings. Hands shaking, she rolled Cara onto her back, clumsily fumbling at the clasps that held her corset in place.

She was fine. She had to be fine.

Her brother appeared at her side, crowding her, but she did not bother to scold him.

"Haden," he called, two impatient fingers beckoning to the Mord'Sith.

"No, she's alive," Jennsen asserted, pulling Cara's corset off and tossing it away. She continued to undo Cara's leathers, pulling the red bodysuit open to reveal the black breastband Cara wore beneath.

"Sister," Darken said, "let –"

He stopped, lips parted as Jennsen continued to strip his love, stopping only when she had exposed Cara's slightly protruding, firmly rounded stomach.

Jennsen placed her hands against Cara's skin, not sure what she was looking for, but trying to find it all the same.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

Then she felt it.

Cara's stomach rippled once. Then again.

Blood seeped through the leather at the apex of her thighs.

Jennsen knew what those ripples meant. Her body was trying to deliver the baby.

And far too soon.

"Cara's with child?" Came the bright, happy voice of Kahlan, who was shakily standing with Richard's help.

"Yes, but I think the baby's in trouble," Jennsen said, distress in her every movement.

"She needs a midwife. A real one. Or a healer."

Darken stared, frozen.

His mind was a whistling stream of nothing. His heart either pounded too hard or not hard enough. He wasn't sure.

"Blood of my blood," he touched Cara's exposed stomach.

He had stayed away during Cara's first pregnancy, consumed by jealousy and thinking he would not desire her in such a state.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

She was gorgeous.

"Brother!"

And she was his. They were both his.

" _Brother!_ "

Darken jumped, returning to reality, focusing on Jennsen's bruised face.

"She needs help _now_. The baby is coming too soon! It's far too early for it to survive on its own!"

Before anyone could move or protest, Darken gathered Cara in his arms. Closing his eyes, he found his center effortlessly.

"What about Jarl's body?" Haden asked.

"Let the wolves have it," Darken intoned.

Then vanished.

**-l-**

In the Temple of the Brotherhood in the city, Freya Kate awoke from a dream of her wolves feasting. She screamed, her mind shattered as she moaned Jarl's name.

Dead dead dead.

"He's dead," she said aloud, pain spreading through her neck and chest as she gasped. They had been connected. His pain was her pain.

Drawn by the sounds of her distress, Gudrun burst into the room.

He held her as she sobbed, muttering soothing nonsense.

"There there Kate… There there."

* * *

**Chapter 54: Son**

* * *

Zedd started as a flash of light blazed in the high tower room he was using to observe events beyond the temple walls, a vantage point from which he could lend magical aid.

There was a crack and a rush of air. When the light faded, Darken stood before him, a prone Cara in his arms.

He was impressed. Darken had transported both of them with no focus and no idea of Zedd's exact location. It was the act of a magical prodigy.

Or a desperate man.

"Zeddicus," Darken barked, his demeanor so tightly controlled that it made it obvious he was about to come undone.

Blood dripped onto the floor.

Darken led Zedd to the chamber always kept reserved for Lord Rahl. Such a place was kept for him in every holding of the Mord'Sith. He explained as they went in short, terse sentences, detailing Cara's condition and the spell that Jarl had cast.

He could not keep the wonder from his voice when he spoke of their child.

Or his fear.

They had her stripped and laid out on the bed in short order, blood continuing to gush from her thighs in spurts.

Darken stepped back, eyes burning holes in Zedd's back as he nervously rubbed his hands together. After a moment he switched to tugging on his lip, unable to keep completely still.

A white glow surrounded Zedd's hands as he ran them over Cara's abdomen, then her chest, and finally her head.

"I have never seen anything like this. She was hit with a powerful magic," Zedd rested his long fingers on either side of Cara's stomach, eyes fluttering shut as blood continued to soak the sheets of Darken's bed. "It seems that this Jarl meant to… _share his death,_ is the best description."

Face contorting, Darken turned to kick over the chair next to him, a great racket shattering the silence as it slammed into the wall, one leg splintering. "Don't tell me what's wrong, just fix it!" he snarled at Zedd, every inch his old self.

And yet not.

"If I was rested, if we had not just fought a battle," Zedd looked up, old eyes tired and grey. "I don't have the power to help her now. I must rest, but by the time I have done so… I fear it will be too late."

He placed a hand on his pupil's shoulder, that action alone showing how far their friendship had come. "I am sorry, my boy. If she had not been with child, the spell would have killed her. As it is, the death magic is taking another life. She will lose the babe."

"No!" Darken flung Zedd's hand away, kneeling at the bedside to place his hand over Cara's stomach, still rippling with the contractions that would force their child from her womb long before it could survive on its own.

"Take my han," he said suddenly, shocking himself.

His face lit with realization. "Zeddicus, take my han."

"I'm sorry, Darken. The nature of your han is different from mine. I would not be able to control it sufficiently."

"Well what good are you then?" snapped the dark-haired king, one hand on Cara's stomach, the other stroking her hair away from her face.

Zedd looked down at his wrinkled hands, his heart plummeting to his shoes. "None at all."

"Why doesn't she wake?"

"It is kinder this way. To spare her the pain."

The pain of the body. The pain of the heart.

All was quiet, only the sound of Cara's occasionally halting breaths breaking the stillness.

"She still bleeds."

"She will do so until –"

" _Silence_!"

Thunder cracked, the heavens opening. Rain thundered against the roof and walls of the tower, the sound breaking Zedd's heart.

Darken Rahl did not cry.

The land cried for him.

"Leave us," he said quietly, eyes only for Cara.

"Your son's life is in the Creator's hands now," Zedd said in parting. A memory surfaced, a message he had not understood jumping into startling clarity.

"The Creator may help you…if you ask."

With that he was gone, the door clicking shut just as Darken turned to glare, Zedd's words taking an unusual amount of time to penetrate his consciousness.

He turned back to Cara. Her brow wrinkled as her breath caught. He smoothed the lines away with his fingertips.

He had asked a god for help once.

The Keeper had not been kind.

He had been tricked, duped, by so many. By his father, by the Keeper, by his mother… By those who pretended their loyalty while waiting to stab him in the back.

He had sworn to rely only on himself, to trust no one completely, to need no one, to love no one.

He had never prayed again.

But he relied on Cara, he trusted her, he needed her.

He loved her.

And he owed her a child's life. Nothing could undo the mistakes he had made, the sins of his past.

But he could do the right thing now.

He bowed his head.

And prayed.

Nothing happened. He felt foolish.

He kept praying, muttering the words over Cara as if they were some spell of healing that would set everything right.

Darken could call lighting and fire, could trap and ensnare, could fling invisible forces and travel great distances.

He had thought himself great, the master of true power.

But it was as Zeddicus had tried to tell him.

True power lay in healing.

**_Finally, you understand._ **

"Hali?" he opened his eyes, glancing around the room.

A heavy presence he recognized pressed down on his lungs, a familiar pair of lips brushing his cheek.

**_I have missed you, Darken._ **

"You were in my dreams," he stared ahead into nothing, accustomed to speaking with gods who would not show themselves. "But I couldn't hear you."

**_You never asked._ **

He snorted.

**_There are rules, Darken. You had to call on me. What is it that has finally made you swallow your pride?_ **

That brought his attention back to the woman that lay suffering on his sheets. He rested his forehead against her arm, his lips against her skin as he said, "Save them."

He expected a braying laugh and an apparition, a perfect Hali with Healing Hands.

It did not happen that way.

**_Why?_ **

"What do you mean _why_? Why must you always know _why_?" he cried, facade of calm slipping.

Her presence grew heavier, a suffocating force that Darken recognized as the chastisement it was.

**_Why should I save your son, Darken Rahl?_ **

"Because the child deserves to live. Because Cara deserves a second chance at motherhood. Because I –" he stopped, considering the words that waited just behind his teeth.

Quietly, with wonder, he finished, "Because I deserve a second chance."

A braying laugh sounded in his ear, stirring up memories of a disheveled blind woman who had been as quick to anger as she was to tears.

**_You understand at last, Darken. But I will not save your son._ **

He flung his head back, anger igniting his veins. Hali's presence pushed him down once more, reminding him that she was not just Hali, but a god.

"What of the prophecy? Your prophecy," he said, grasping at straws. "My son could be the Son of Blood. The world needs him."

He did not want such a heavy destiny for his children. His own fate had been too harsh, but it was preferable to death.

**_The Son of Blood will rise with the howling of wolves and the flight of birds_ **

**_Doomed love will give him birth, sacrifice his cradle_ **

**_Loved and hated in equal measure, the world rests in his hands._ **

**_Can you not guess, Darken, who the Son of Blood truly is?_ **

" _Richard_ ," Darken spat, an old hatred unleashed.

**_No. If things had gone differently, perhaps. But they did not. You, Darken Rahl, are the Son of Blood. The son of my blood, the blood of sacrifice on the Pillars of Creation. Your Cara wept for you, for the life you never had, for the love she would never be able to share._ **

"She wept for me?"

**_And so you were granted new life, a new body, forged of love and blood, a balance of both forces at last._ **

"A new body? So my han –"

**_Is the han I once gave to your brother. But he spurned my gift. I have placed it now in your care, in the hopes that you would cherish it._ **

"I do."

**_You do not. And that is why I will not save your son._ **

"You would punish Cara, punish our child because I haven't groveled at your feet in thanks? You truly are no different than the Keeper." He returned his gaze to Cara, determined righteous anger thick around him.

He could feel her smile in the air, that same crooked condescending quirk of the lips that he remembered.

**_No. I won't save your son because you are going to do it. You have accepted the destructive power of your magic, but true power –_ **

"Lies in healing," Darken finished, not bothered in the least by the fact that he had just interrupted a god.

**_Death in one hand, mercy in the other._ **

"How?" he asked.

**_Love._ **

Darken closed his eyes.

And accepted that he loved Cara, and yes their son, both their sons, with all his heart.

And it did not make him weak.

A white glow surrounded his hands.

* * *

**Chapter 55: Complete**

* * *

They were married within a fortnight, as soon as it could be arranged.

It was Darken, not Cara, who insisted on the rushed nuptials. He would wait no longer than necessary to make Cara his.

The ceremony was held on the devotional balcony of the People's Palace, before the people. Messengers had been sent out to hang proclamations inviting all who wished to attend.

The Mother Confessor presided, a show of faith that reassured those who would see Darken Rahl dethroned once more. The sight of Kahlan Amnell performing the marriage ceremony did much to mend the rifts that divided the Midlands.

Richard Rahl, called by some the Seeker, wore the colors and symbol of his house and stood proudly at his brother's side. Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander was the ring bearer, though he beamed so hard throughout the ceremony one would think he was the mother of the bride.

Jennsen Rahl served as the maid of honor, reluctantly accompanied by Mistress Haden. Jennsen was sweet in a powder pink gown of silk, flowers in her hands. Haden was fierce in red leather, a hawk on her shoulder.

Darken wore his most luxurious royal robes, but they could not hold a candle to his Cara. She wore the white leathers of the Mord'Sith, a symbol to all that she had taken a mate.

And a statement. She was Queen Cara, but she was still Mord'Sith.

The very first to be both.

She would wear the white leather for the entirety of her reign, her collar open to reveal the amulet of bones at her throat. Darken had insisted she leave off the corset so that all may see the swell of their child growing within her.

He announced the imminent birth of his heir at the end of the ceremony, determined that this time things would be different.

Better.

The ring on his finger was strangely comforting. The crowd cheered, rose petals flowing all around them as Darken placed his hand on Cara's abdomen.

He was whole. Complete.

He was not his father.

**-l-**

In several quiet villages, far from the People's Palace where Lord Rahl's marriage was celebrated, unicorns walked.

The people watched them, slack jawed, enamored of the creatures of legend.

They chose girls, most of them young, all of them well respected for their purity.

The girls became their voice.

Freya Kate looked up from her scrying pool to meet Brother Gudrun's eyes.

"Good," he said, bowing his head to her in respect. "We must be more careful, better prepared. Jarl was a fool. I will lead our Order with wisdom."

"Yes, Brother Gudrun," Kate said, turning back to the images held in the depths of her pool.

 

**End Notes:**

 

* * *

[i] Reference to “The Immortals” series by Tamora Pierce.

[ii] This is the same Ema that sold Darken Rahl his tunic in _Blood from a Stone_.

[iii] The pointy needle tool things Giller uses in “Conversion.”

[iv] Reference to “The Protector of the Small” series by Tamora Pierce.

[v] Reference to Taoism.

[vi] A reference to Shakespeare’s _MacBeth_.

 

 ** Additional Notes: **

**Jarl:** means "Chief" and "Nobleman" in Old Norse.

 **Gudrun:** means "God's secret" in Old Norse.

 **Freya Kate:** Freya means "lady" in Old Norse, and is also one of the names of the goddess of love, beauty, and fertility.

 **Tyrn** : Is a reference to the Norse god "Tyr."

 **Fenrisulfr:** A reference to the norse mythological creature Fenrir and his children. It literally means "Fenris Wolf."

 **Skull:** The name of one of Fenrir's children.

 **Helhati:** A combination of Hel, Fenrir's sister, and Hati, Fenrir's daughter in Norse mythology.

 **Darken's rebirth:** and emergence from the sea is a reference to the birth story of Aphrodite in Greek mythology and the rebirth of Dionysus, also of Greek mythology.

 **The rain:** constantly caused by Darken's emotions is a reference to Thor, of Norse mythology. It is also a reference to "There Will Come Soft Rains" by Ray Bradbury.

 **The birds and wolves:** Are an oblique reference to Odin, of Norse mythology.

** Original Working Notes: **

Notes sequel to bfs:

 

Kahlan is sent dream on wings of dreamwalker/weaver/what the hell ever:

"Should the Mother Confessor betray the Creator's chosen(find more subtle way) the Midlands will fall, all magic erased."

 

More subtle way: the man who seeks his truth, the man who sees the truth, the hawk, SON of BLOOD (Kahlan interprets this to mean she will have a son, and he must live?) (Find out Cara is preggers and maybe her son?) (But is really Darken Rahl, because the Creator restored him to a new life from the balance of blood that sealed the veil.)

** LotSeekerFic Awards Won: **

1st Place Best Action/Adventure Rare Pair Het

2nd Place Best Portrayal Darken Rahl

3rd Place Best Portrayal Cara

3rd Place Best Alternate Universe Rare Pair Het

 

 

 **** ** **

**** ** **

**** ** **

**** ** **

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
